


Marked by Fire

by SilenceoftheLlamas



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Burns, Description of wounds, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I butcher Finnish mythology, Set after page 662
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9409895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceoftheLlamas/pseuds/SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: After the smoke clears, Emil finds that he has some unexpected scars. Weirdly, only Lalli seems to be able to see them."Magic is not real. Magic is not real.But right now, staring at his hands, feeling the thrum of energy in his veins, he was starting to think of that mantra less and less."





	1. The Beginning

Emil kicked up soot and grime as he circled the perimeter of the tank, his rifle strapped to his back. He’d left his beloved flamethrower in the tank.

The metal still burned under his fingers, even if it had long cooled. Whenever he touched it, the image of the bird made of fire erupting from the business end would flash in his head and he’d recoil as if he’d been burned. Magic was not real. _Magic was not real_.

Heat still simmered in his veins, barely prickling beneath the surface but more than enough to be felt. It didn’t feel right; it felt as though his skin was no longer his. He wanted to flay it all off, strip himself to the bone.

Lalli watched him from afar, his eyes carefully watching every step he took, every twitch of his hand, every shaky intake of breath. They narrowed when he realised that with every intake of breath, Emil’s chest was shuddering with the effort. He crept over, unconsciously stepping silently through the charred grass, and patted him on the head.

Emil jerked away as if he’d been struck. Lalli flinched backwards, hand being clutched to his chest. He hadn’t meant to hurt him. Did he pat too hard? Had Emil hit his head?

“I-I’m sorry, Lalli-“ Those words, Lalli could understand. The gods knew he’d said them a lot, “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, you just shocked me.” These words, Lalli didn’t, so he simply stared at Emil as the Swede flustered and resorted to fiddling with his hair to calm down.

Lalli flexed his hand. It felt far too warm.

He focused back onto Emil, and now that he was closer, he noticed that the air around him seemed to be… distorted, like the air above hot tarmac on a scorching day.

Odd.

Emil was still talking to him, his tone changing into one that Lalli assumed to be comforting or assuring. He patted Lalli’s head, moving to adjust his hair into one more fitting and less ‘bummish’, as he’d had translated for him before, when Emil froze and his eyed widened.

“Oh, Lalli, you’re freezing!” Emil immediately shrugged off his jacket and threw it over Lallis shoulders. If the cold bothered him, he didn’t show it. “Here, wear this, I’ll be okay for a little bit.” The Swede smiled at him and gave a thumbs up.

Not that Lalli understood a word of what he’d just said, anyway. Emil wasn’t quite sure why he continued to talk to him when he knew he wasn’t understood and probably looked insane, but he couldn’t stand to be silent.

Lalli allowed the jacket to be wrapped around him, but he couldn’t concentrate on the Swedes words when he felt like he was being burned. It was hot, scorching hot like flames had wrapped around him. It felt like he was sitting in a kiln.

That could _never_ be good.

He shrugged off the jacket, swatting away Emil’s hands when they tried to pull it back on him again and ignoring the admonishing tone in the others voice. He grabbed onto Emil’s wrist and worked off his glove, carefully inspecting the bare skin.

Emil hissed at the freezing cold fingers pressing into the flesh of his palm, his eyes squeezing shut as he took in a sharp breath. So cold! Lalli was so, so cold! How could his lips not be blue, how could he not be violently shaking? Lalli started speaking to him in Finnish, and he felt his cheek being pinched when the other had realised he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

Slowly, Emil released the breath he was holding, opened his eyes, and looked down at their joined hands.

_Oh_.

That was quite a surprise. His hands, despite the gloves that protected them, despite the fact that they didn’t hurt with that familiar agony of a burn, were puckered and shiny like scar tissue. Emil had seen it enough in the older Cleansers in Sweden. His hand had been burned, and terribly so.

Lalli worked his fingers under Emil’s sleeve and peeled the fabric back, Emil sucking in another breath when he noticed that his wrist wasn’t faring much better.

How was the cold not bothering him, Emil wondered. Lalli still felt like he were made of ice, as if carved from the glaciers themselves, yet the air around them felt rather pleasant, almost as though he were sat by the heater in their bunk. A mantra played in the back of his head.

_Magic is not real. Magic is not real_.

But right now, staring at his hands, feeling the thrum of energy in his veins, he was starting to think of that mantra less and less.

Almost feverishly, Emil near enough ripped his other glove off, staring at his other hand. It wasn’t scarred as badly, just his fingers, but they tapered off into little flame-shapes at the knuckles. Fire, he’d been marked by fire.

How fitting, he supposed.

Lalli hadn’t let go of him, his mind racing and heart thudding in his ears.

How? How had this happened? He’d have remembered if Emil had been burned this badly. Mikkel would have noticed. He would have said something, would have scolded Emil and repeated that word he said a lot; Protocol. Lalli knew enough by now to know that it meant the way to do things. That Emil had to wear his gloves, that Emil had to wear all his protective gear if he were to even look at his flamethrower. Lalli knew that Emil wasn’t stupid enough to use it without at least something protecting his hands.

They’d been gone for a while. Emil looked out over the forest, noting the shadows getting longer and longer. Soon, it would be night-time, and all the disgusting nasties would be out and about. He wasn’t keen to let another one near the tank, especially when the room their bunks were in had a gaping hole in the floor. He gestured to Lalli for his gloves back, threw his jacket back around the scout, and the two returned back to the tank.

Lalli tried not to think too much about how warm his jacket still was, despite being dumped onto the snowy ground.

* * *

 

Reynir was the definition of miserable. He’d been found crying in his sleep in the same bunk they’d left him in hours ago, and no one had the heart to try and wake him. Even his waking hours would be full of nightmares.

Lalli had slunk into the front of the tank where Tuuri was, and the two could be heard quietly conversing in Finnish. Every so often, little sniffles could be heard.

Emil decontaminated himself with the spray and grabbed a change of clothes before retreating into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. He put his change of clean clothes down on the edge of the sink before he braced himself on either side of the basin and stared at himself in the mirror.

There were no scars on his face. That, he was _immensely_ pleased about. Hiding things on your face was difficult.

Next, he peeled off his gloves and let them fall to the floor. They were still scarred. Chewing his lip, he took off his jumper.

The flames didn’t extend any further than his elbow. Like they did on the knuckles of his other hand, the scarring ended in elaborate designs that swirled almost beautifully.

Emil couldn’t bring himself to call it beautiful.

There was a knock on the door. Mikkels voice came through from the other side, “Lalli tells me you’re running a fever.”

Emil scoffed. “I am _not_!”

“Protocol states I check.”

Emil desperately wanted to tell Mikkel where he could stuff protocol, but he knew better than to start _that_ argument. Mikkel was in charge of both feeding him and keeping him healthy – he’d continue to do so, yes, but it wouldn’t be any more pleasant. He may use a little more force than needed the next time he needed a wound being cleaned, and he may find some nasty surprise in his next meal.

Emil shrugged the jumper back on and unlocked the door, careful to keep his hands firmly behind his back.

Mikkel raised an eyebrow at this. “What are you holding?” He asked suspiciously.

“Nothing!” Emil squeaked.

“Emil,” Mikkel said warningly with the same tired tone an elder sibling may use, “Show me your hands.”

Emil shuffled awkwardly, looking anywhere but at Mikkel, before he sagged and showed Mikkel his hands, staring intently at the wall to the side. Yes, this wall was fascinating. Simply fascinating.

“… Hm.” Was all Mikkel had to offer before he was shoving a thermometer into Emil’s mouth and pressing the back of his hand to his forehead.

“Everything seems to be normal.” Mikkel replied, taking the thermometer back and wiping it off with a rag he pulled from his front pocket. “As you were.”

Emil watched dumbfounded as Mikkel returned back outside. He was so sure he was going to be chewed out for not telling Mikkel he’d burned himself.

Slowly, he went back into the bathroom and finished getting changed. He dumped his clothes into the UV chamber, sprayed himself with the antibacterial spray once more for good measure, and slid to the floor in the storage unit. Given the crates in there, it was a bit of a squeeze, but he managed. Most of them were partially empty anyway. In the dim light offered by the weakening sun, he stared at his hands.

Whatever had happened, it had mutilated him.

Unbidden, strangely cosy in the usually frigid storage unit, Emil fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t in the storage unit.

He was in his aunt and uncles living room as he remembered it; warm and plush sofas covered in plump cushions that put even Bosse to shame, a thick rug on the floor, and a crackling fire. His family were nowhere to be seen, and the room, strangely, did not have a door.

Emil knew that he had to be dreaming.

Usually when he dreamt, he didn’t know. He could be told that he was next in line to star on a TV show from year zero with his trusty side-kick Homer Simpson and he’d believe every word if he were dreaming, but Emil could _think_. His head wasn’t the consistency of mush, his hands worked, and he couldn’t move somewhere by simply willing it to be. He had to actually get up off the floor and walk over to the sofa to feel that cushion.

He ran a hand down one that was covered in beige fur, quietly enjoying the tactile sensation with a grin on his face. This was amazing.

The fire behind him crackled and spat, a log suddenly splitting with a loud bang and scaring him senseless. Emil apprehensively turned around and approached the fire, hands clutched to his chest as if to still his heart, to stop it from bruising itself from how hard it was hitting his ribs.

He sat down by the fire, staring into the flames. It looked like a normal fire, oranges and reds and yellows dancing and spinning together in a hot plasma. And then, the flame shrunk back in on itself. Emil went to prod it with the sharp metal tool he’d found lying by the grate when suddenly a bird made of fire erupted from the log and went screaming up the chimney.

Pain seared in his hands, his eyes feeling hot. Coloured spots appeared in his vision as Emil cried out and fell backwards, arms coming up to protect his face.

Something wet dripped onto him.

Emil cautiously opened his eyes, not realising that he’d squeezed them shut as he rolled away, and saw that his hands were bleeding. Where skin once was charred flesh replaced, blood oozing from the wounds thickly. Plasma made the destroyed skin look sickeningly shiny and slick. He felt bile rise in his throat and he gritted his teeth, swallowing hard. He felt sick.

It hurt. Everything hurt. Emil keened, curling into himself as he thought about what to do. He didn’t know what to do – there was no water, there was no medical kit. He wanted Mikkel, he’d know what to do. He wanted Lalli, Lalli was good at handling this sort of thing. Lalli knew that if he ran his fingers through Emil’s hair in just that way, if he fluffed it up and patted it into place, then Emil could calm down enough to be a reasonable, rational human being.

But Lalli wasn’t here, he was on his own, and his hands were _killing_ him.

What a great Cleanser he was, Emil bitterly thought, not even knowing how to handle his own burns. His old squad would laugh at him even more, would probably reduce him down to mascot status. Phantom wounds prickled on his skin, tears welling in his eyes-

“ _Don’t cry, you little bitch. Men don’t cry_.”

He couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard he tried. He could hear air wheezing into his lungs, he could feel it screaming back out again, but it did nothing. He still felt as though he were suffocating, his head spinning and his eyes burning. His hands didn’t hurt anymore, he felt completely numb apart from the deep ache in his chest as he struggled for breath.

A calm warmth spread over him from behind, wrapping around him. He could feel it slowly pulsing, and he desperately latched onto it. _Slowly, Emil. Slowly_. He tried to match his breathing to it, and eventually he felt he could breathe again.

Emil’s eyes squeezed shut.

He opened them to the storage unit, feeling no more rested than he had earlier. It was dark, the sun having set a long time ago. Carefully, he wriggled down from his spot and went into the tank proper.

The door to the bunk was sealed shut, and he assumed that Reynir was still inside. There were mattresses strewn along the hallway, dark shapes laying on them. He picked his way through them until he was in the front of the tank. Tuuri was fast asleep by the radio, and he was very careful to not disturb her as he made his way to the passenger seats.

Lalli had beaten him to them, strewn out over them with what looked suspiciously like the Cleansers jacket thrown over him. He seemed to have heard Emil coming, as he looked up at him with glowing blue eyes and shuffled to make room for him.

Emil nodded his thanks as he slipped into the seat next to Lalli, blankly staring into the darkness that surrounded them. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see a bird made of fire. He grumbled, digging his palm into his eyes and viciously rubbing, begging the image to go.

It stubbornly stayed.

Lalli cautiously touched his shoulder, ignoring the way it felt far too hot to be normal. Emil glanced at him and gave him a small smile, Swedish pouring out like honey. He had said something gently, almost like reassurance. Lalli made a noise and wriggled over to Emil, firmly planting his chin on the others shoulder and staring at him.

Spill. _Now_.

Emil just turned back to the outside world, not replying. With a huff, Lalli pulled the jacket closer to him, leaned his full weight against Emil, and joined him in staring out of the windscreen.


	2. The Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while; I was travelling for a bit, and then university struck back with a vengeance. Pray 4 me.

The bags under his eyes aged him way beyond his years, his skin sickeningly pale and glistening. He could scold Lalli for not sleeping all he wanted; the entire crew knew he was a hypocrite.

Sleep only brought that same plush room back and images of birds made of fire. It brought pain, agony, and the stench of burned flesh.

Sigrun had noticed, of course. She couldn’t say anything about him not taking care of himself, though. The discoloured flesh around the wound on her arm was a glaring reminder that she’d ignored her injury and had pushed herself too far, so she was in no position to lecture.

Reynir, on the other hand, was always sleeping. If he wasn’t drawing runes on the paper Lalli had somehow managed to find (no one had quite worked it out yet, although they had their suspicions when some cropped up with jagged edges) then he was curled up somewhere sterile and sleeping. Mikkel was often seen simply stepping over his body to continue about his day, blissfully ignoring the boy on the floor.

Tuuri… Emil hadn’t really spoken to her. The last time they’d had a proper conversation was when they were trying to repair the floor in the tank, a job made three times harder when it became apparent that Tuuri was the only one who had the slightest idea of what she was doing. His clumsy hands just made a mess, and she’d quickly sent him away to go and bother someone else.

That suited him just fine.

They’d been stuck for days now, and Emil was _exhausted_. They hadn’t done any book runs, they hadn’t gone into any buildings to explore them and exterminate any trolls and destroy any nests; they hadn’t done _anything_ , yet Emil was so, so very tired.

He’d learned tricks, though. Just close your eyes for a little while, it would do in a pinch. Breathe deep and slow, like one does while dreaming. Sit with your legs crossed, one thrown over the knee of its opposite, the ache that blooms will keep you conscious. Keep yourself cold, the chill in your bones will sink its teeth in deep enough to wake you up.

Emil sat outside; the fold up chair creaked in protest as he unceremoniously dumped his weight on it. He crossed his legs, leaned his head back to face the sky, and slowly let his eyes close.

A sharp gasp to his left made his eyes fly open and his hands reach for a weapon that wasn’t there.

“You’re Emil, right?” Reynir excitedly squeaked, their hands clasped in front of them as they eagerly leaned forwards. Emil looked around himself wildly and realised he was dreaming.

_Damn it._

“Since when did you speak Swedish?”

“I don’t.” Reynir replied. “For some reason we can understand other mages in the dream space? I don’t really get it myself but it’s really handy and useful-“

Emil had tuned him out. Mages? Other mages? He wasn’t a mage! He was a Swede, a godless Swede! The gods didn’t grant them their safety – their perseverance and inability to back down gave them it. They forged their own path, their own future. There were no gods.

But here Reynir was, speaking perfect Swedish, with a stupid little grin on his face.

He looked as though he were expecting an answer.

“… What?”

“I didn’t know you were a mage! Why didn’t you ever say anything? I’ve never been able to find you before, you’re very good at hiding.”

“I’m not a mage!” Emil spat indignantly, jumping to his feet. “I’ve never believed in magic my whole _life_.”

Reynir frowned. “I didn’t think non-mage’s had dream spaces.”

“I’m certainly not the person to be asking.” Emil crossed his arms over his chest. “Isn’t there someone else you could ask? Lalli? That other Finn who’s on the radio sometimes?”

“They’re… not available at the moment.” Reynir awkwardly replied as he fiddled with his braid. “Lalli kind of punched me with a tree the last time I went into his dream space.”

“He punched you with… a tree.” Emil deadpanned.

“Seriously! He did! It hurt so bad!” Reynir insisted.

“I’m sure he did.” Emil slowly replied. He slowly sank back down to the floor, sitting a fair distance from Reynir. He wasn’t too sure how to feel about him being there, in what he had come to consider his own space, his _private_ space. Glancing over at him, he saw Reynir looking around.

“Is this your home?” He asked. “It’s weird, you know, we’re all outdoors and wake up on grass or wooden planks, but you’re inside.”

“I’m… not sure what else I’d have.” Emil replied. “I burn things like forests for a living.”

“You do?!” Reynir balked. “B-but wood is so precious!”

“To you, maybe. For us it’s somewhere for things to hide. Better to destroy it than let it destroy us.”

Reynir awkwardly fiddled with his braid, random debris tangled in it. Sheeps wool, leaves, dried grasses, flowers, mosses, _pine cones_ -

It sent shudders down his spine!

“Do you have a comb?” Emil asked him, gesturing to his hair. Reynir shook his head. “Figures.” Emil sighed, ran a hand through his own hair, and gestured for Reynir to sit by the sofa. “Hold still. I’ll fix your hair for you.”

“There is a lot of it.” Reynir warned as Emil climbed up onto the sofa behind him, placing his knees either side of Reynir’s shoulders. “Are you sure? It’s a lot of work.”

“You’ll look like a bum if I don’t.” Emil replied as he carefully untied the length of textile from the bottom of Reynir’s braid, carefully working his fingers through the mass of hair. “To answer your question before, it’s not my home.” He teased out a mass of wool. “It’s my aunt and uncles. They’re on the radio sometimes.”

Speaking of which… Emil placed the braid onto the sofa next to him as he jumped up and walked to the coffee table. It was low enough to place his feet on if he had wanted to, and the side was lined with drawer after drawer. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before; he’d played with his cousins enough to know that they kept hair supplies in the third drawer to the left!

Luck was with him – inside were a series of combs and hairbrushes. He picked the one that worked best at untangling hair and at getting things out without getting horribly stuck and brandished it to Reynir.

“A hairbrush! Remind me to see if I can scavenge one for you when I wake up.”

“Emil, your hands!” Reynir ignored the brush, knocking it out of his hands as he grabbed Emil by the wrists.

Emil tried to tug them back, but Reynir wasn’t letting go any time soon. “What did you do to them?!”

“My flamethrower did it!” Emil tried wrestling his arms back again, only succeeding in hauling Reynir closer. He hastily shuffled back.

“I’ve never noticed them before.” Reynir replied, almost mystified. “I’m such a terrible friend.”

“I don’t exactly _not_ wear my gloves.” Emil replied, perhaps a little harshly. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being called a friend – they’d barely shared a word. Remembering their first encounter was just embarrassing.

Perhaps it was best if he just ignored being called a friend.

“Even so!” Reynir let go of his wrists, his gloved hands pushing Emil’s hands around so he could get a better look at them. “These look so painful. How long ago was it?”

“A few days ago.”

Reynir balked at him, eyes going impossibly wide. “I don’t know anything about burns, but they surely don’t heal this fast!”

“They don’t.” Emil took his hands back, Reynir hesitantly letting him. “I have… many, many questions to ask, but I don’t know what to say.”

“Why don’t you ask Tuuri?”

“I don’t want a half-assed translation.” Emil huffed. “She always acts like Lalli doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Reynir sat back against the sofa, his fingers digging into his braid again. Emil took back his spot behind him and continued brushing out the crap that was stuck in it.

“Maybe… show her your hands?” Reynir said. Emil almost ruthlessly tugged his fingers through a knot.

“Sure, I’ll just rock on up to her and throw my hands into her face. That’ll work.”

Reynir swatted at him. “You know what I meant!”

“Okay, fine. I show them. Then what? She’ll still pretend that she’s the middle ground between Lalli and I.” Emil angrily brushed Reynirs hair. “I don’t know how to find Lalli, and he doesn’t know enough Swedish for me to ask him about these kinds of things. He didn’t even say anything when he saw them before.”

He was rambling and he knew it, but damn it this was so frustrating! For once in his life, he was thinking that maybe, just maybe, magic _was_ real and that Tuuri and the rest of the crew weren’t simply entertaining Lalli with his fancies, but the universe seemed to want to make it as difficult as possible for him to actually find out more about it and to discover just what he was capable of.

“If Lalli hasn’t said anything…” Reynir hummed, drumming his fingers on his thighs, “Then maybe he doesn’t know, either.”

Emil didn’t like that thought too much.

“Do you know any other mages?” Emil asked, fishing out the last of the matter in Reynirs hair and carefully brushing it.

“Just one, but I haven’t been able to talk to them since the other night. When the ghosts followed us.” Reynir’s hands clenched and his shoulders hunched. “I feel so awful, I asked them to help us and they got hurt so badly.”

“What did they do to help?” Emil frowned at him, splitting his hair into two halves. “Where even are they?”

“They’re with your aunt and uncle.” Reynir looked down at his lap in shame. “It’s Tuuri’s older brother.”

Emil almost dropped the hair in his hands. “How could he possibly help from so far?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t even know what he did, but it hurt him!” Reynir sounded like he was crying. Emil didn’t dare to look.

He didn’t know what to say.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to. His hands began to fade away, the hair falling through his disappearing fingers. He could barely get a word out before he opened his eyes in the waking world to a very annoyed Lalli prodding his face. He barely had a moment to realise that he hadn't suddenly caught fire in his dream before Lalli started speaking.

“Inside for sleeping.” He said in very broken Swedish. “Too cold outside.”

Emil felt like a bit of an ass for suddenly leaving Reynir like that. He’d have to apologise to him later. For now, he had Lalli staring down at him and a plan forming in his mind.

* * *

 That night found Lalli stealing Emil’s jacket again and curling up by the drivers seat. Emil trailed after him, peeling off his gloves and leaving them on the dashboard as he sat down next to the scout and looked at his hands.

“I wish I had the words to ask you about this.” He said, quickly glancing at Lalli. He was staring intently at Emil as though clinging on to every word. “Then we’d be able to understand some things.”

Lalli leaned forwards much like he had the night before, chin finding itself on Emil’s shoulder again. Lalli selfishly didn’t share the jacket, however.

“Bother you?” Lalli asked, patting Emil’s hands with his gloved ones. Emil pulled a face.

“Eennhh, kind of?”

Lalli gave him a blank look and he realised that Lalli likely didn’t understand what he’d just said. Biting back the urge to sigh, Emil rephrased.

“Yes, a little.”

Lalli seemed to understand this time, slowly blinking at him like Bosse did after he’d been fed his dinner. He reached up and adjusted Emil’s hair, taking care to tuck the ends under like Emil usually did, before going back to tapping on Emil’s knuckles. He looked a little lost, and very much deep in thought.

They heard some shuffling behind the door, and it slid open as Tuuri sleepily stumbled in, rubbing tiredly at her eyes.

“Oh, hi, you two.” She yawned. “I didn’t expect you to still be awake.”

“I napped earlier.” Emil replied. He wondered if she’d notice his hands. It was quite dark.

When Lalli hadn’t acknowledged her, Tuuri leaned down to look at him and noticed that he was fiddling with Emil’s hands.

“Is he annoying you? I can get him to stop.” Tuuri said.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind it.” Emil replied. “I think it’s grounding for him.”

Tuuri was looking directly at his hands. The moonlight filtered through the clouds, throwing the cabin into a milky twilight for a few precious seconds.

She said nothing.

* * *

 “Reynir, if you could see my scars while we’re awake, you’d let me know… right?”

“Of course I would!”

“I don’t think Tuuri or Mikkel can see them.”

“That’s weird.”

* * *

 Lalli scouted the area around them a little bit, looping over and over in the areas he knew like the back of his hand.

It was a welcome distraction, but not enough of one to completely drown out the enigma that was Emil.

The clumsy Swede had managed to burn himself, which came as little surprise to Lalli, but what was surprising was the fact that he didn’t remember Emil doing it. He didn’t remember the pained screams, or the healing, or the bitching Mikkel would likely spout as he worked about getting the wound disinfected and cleaned. From what Lalli knew about burns, if you got a bad one, chances were you’d die pretty fast.

He briefly entertained the thought that maybe Emil had it before they met, but it was quickly squashed and swiftly kicked out. No – he was certain Emil hadn’t a single mark on him when they’d met. He’d had enough time to study the Swedes hands, he’d had enough time to realise that they were unmarked and unscarred. It was new, it was fresh, and the little time they’d spent together was definitely not enough for it to have completely healed over.

Emil was had been hot beneath his hands, his face still warm from where it had been pressed into his shoulder that morning. Mikkel had informed him that Emil didn’t have a fever, and when Lalli had convinced Tuuri to check his temperature with her own hand like she had when they were younger and he got sick, she confirmed what Mikkel had told him; he felt perfectly normal.

Was it just him that was noticing this? How could Emil not feel absolutely boiling? How could he stand to be wrapped in as many layers as he did whenever he went outside?

Eventually he returned to the tank. Sigrun was storming around outside, her arm back in its sling and stinking heavily of disinfectant. She said something to him, seemingly pleased that he was back as she patted him on the shoulder. She shouted something to Tuuri, who waved Lalli over from where she was leaning into the front of the tank.

“Sigrun thinks they should go check out that church over there.” Tuuri said, pointing back to the church that was behind them.

Lalli shook his head. “It’s full of ghosts.”

“Even more reason to go, apparently. Has Reynir made a rune that works yet?”

“Sort of-“

“Then it’s safe. Wake Emil up too, he’s still asleep in the front.”

Sure enough, there Emil was; splayed out on his front on the sofa. So graceful, so sublime.

Lalli poked him awake, and once he had his attention he pointed outside, smushed his hair up to mimic their captains, and waved for Emil to follow him. A few moments later, Emil stumbled out the tank as he hastily pulled on his boots, jacket slung over his arm.

The two conversed in their gibberish, Lalli only able to pick out a few words here and there, with Sigrun gesturing to Emil’s coat a few times. The Swede eventually put it on, and Lalli frowned when he realised that Emil didn’t seem to be able to feel the cold at all.

Sigrun waved them to follow her, and Lalli slowly trailed behind, the runes Reynir had made for them clutched in his hands.


	3. The Tunnel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this finished yesterday, but I didn't really wanna double update. I tried to wait a week! I promise! I'm so impatient!

The church was, as Lalli had expected, crawling with ghosts. They reached out for Emil hungrily, as though they were _starving_ , but they couldn't touch him. Sparks flew where they had contact.

Sigrun was largely ignored by them, although perhaps it was because of the rune she had stuffed into her pocket. Her knife was in her good hands, sharp eyes scouring the remains of the church.

"Seems to be pretty damn empty." She nudged the remains of a prayer cushion with her boot. "Emil, how does Lalli look?"

"He's not alarmed by anything." Emil replied as he looked at the piece of paper that Lalli had just thrust into his hand. "I'd say we're okay."

"Good!" Sigrun made to turn back before something sparkling caught her eye. She marched forwards, signalling for the other two to stay put, and walked towards the altar. The rood blocking the chancel was in tatters on the floor, it's rusted remains crunching under Sigruns feet.

But something metal on the floor was glinting in the sunlight that weakly shone through the stained-glass windows.

"There's a trap door over here!" Sigrun called, shoving the chairs that had fallen over it off and wiping away the dust. "Where do you think it leads?"

"I have no idea." Emil said as he knelt down next to her. Lalli stayed firmly behind him, rocking from foot to foot anxiously as he held the runes in his hands.

"We should probably explore this," Sigrun began, "we're stuck here for a while until Tuuri can fix the electrics. Help me lift it."

The two set about trying to haul it up. The rusted bolt was destroyed easily, but trying to unwedge it was significantly harder. After a few moments of the two struggling to lift it, feet and hands scrabbling on the floor, it suddenly gave and flung open.

Emil was sent flat into his ass while Sigrun stayed standing, even if she did stagger slightly.

"Well, what do you know?" Sigrun whistled. "It's a tunnel!"

Emil scrambled over to peer into the inky depths. A staircase carved from stone lead down beneath the church, and from where he was Emil could just make out he bottom step and the passage it lead to.

"Should we go down there?" Emil asked. He didn't have any candles on him.

"Is that even a question?" Sigrun asked as she leapt down.

"I don't have any candles!" Emil shouted after her. He'd destroyed his own lantern back in their first book raid. Mikkel had been hesitant to provide him with another considering his track record of abuse to equipment.

"I have my lantern." Sigrun called back, turning it on as if to prove a point. Emil grumbled but hesitantly climbed down after her, Lalli following them. He stuck a rune to the stairs and kept glancing behind them as he followed, his eyes glowing.

The passage went on and on endlessly with no signs of stopping. There were no turns, and no larger rooms it lead to underground. Damp moss lined the walls, small bones from mice and rats crunching beneath their feet. They could hear a steady drip, drip, drip, but it didn’t contain the same sense of dread as a troll nest and it certainly didn’t have the same acrid stench. It was, more likely than not, just water. Every so often there was a little cubby hole in the wall, the rusted remains of what must have been a torch holder barely clinging on to the wall.

Emil began to feel claustrophobic, and he didn't imagine that Lalli felt any better.

"How long does this go on for?!" Emil loudly complained as he dragged his feet, the damp floor squeaking beneath him.

"No idea." Sigrun cheerfully replied. "Would you feel better if we ran?"

"I'd feel better on the surface. Where it's _light_."

"I wonder what time it is?" Sigrun mused. "I hope the sun doesn't set while we're still down here. That'd suck."

Emil hoped she wasn't being sarcastic. It would more than suck; it’d probably kill them.

Then again, he didn’t really expect anything less from the Norwegian.

Eventually, however, they did come across another staircase. Lalli stuck another rune to the wall as the other two set about trying to get the trap door open. Easier said than done. Emil managed to crack it open a little, and Sigrun peered out.

"There's daylight still." She whispered to them. "I think I see glasses? A lot of glasses. And weird metal pipes. Can you lift this any higher?"

The two tried to lift it higher, only for it to get jammed on something.

"Something's on top of it." Emil replied after he'd tried, and failed, to wriggle himself out.

"You sure your heads not just too big?" Sigrun asked. Emil gave her a filthy look and didn't care to reply.

Sigrun snickered and then suddenly looked down at Lalli.

"Hey, Twig, why don't you try?"

"Why Lalli?" Emil incredulously asked her.

"No offence, but he's way thinner. He might manage it."

Emil had to accept that. The two walked back down the stone steps, and Sigrun pushed Lalli forwards. At his confused look, Emil pointed at Lalli and then at the hatch.

"Can you fit?"

Lalli peeled off his body warmer. He could try, he supposed.

With a bit of effort, Lalli managed to wiggle through. A few moments later, after some scraping and vicious Finnish swearing, the trap door opened proper and Lalli stuck out his hand for his body warmer.

Emil handed it back to him as Sigrun climbed out, looking around herself.

"I think this was a pub." She said, wiping her fingers over the nearest surface. "It stinks of old beer."

Emil sniffed and immediately recoiled. Eugh, disgusting!

Lalli didn't seem to be too fussed, quietly walking around and inspecting the building. He didn't seem too panicked so the other two assumed that there weren't any trolls about.

Safe to start looking around, then.

"What were pubs?" Emil asked as he looked around himself. Glass bottles lined a surface behind him, and boxes with glass windows lined the walls behind the bar. He wiped down the dusted surface of one and found yet more bottles inside.

"Places to go and eat and drink." Sigrun replied. "Mostly drink."

"You think any of this will be any good?" He asked.

"Depends if it's been opened."

Emil checked every single bottle on the shelf to no avail; they'd all been opened. The smell was somewhat rancid and made him feel unwell.

Lalli was peering through the windows, his breath fogging the glass.

Emil joined him, unsure as to what he was looking at.

"Well, there aren't any books around here." Sigrun complained. "We'd best head back. I promised Mikkel we'd be back in time for food."

Emil nudged Lalli to get his attention and the three retreated back down the trap door. If Sigruns bag clinked with the sound of glass bottles, no one commented on it.

* * *

 

Despite meeting no trolls or any corpses, they still had to be decontaminated.

While Lalli ran around depositing the runes onto their sensors, Sigrun went first. Emil ignored her teasing at him being unable to so much as look in her direction.

The torched grass around them was much nicer, thank you very much!

But then it was his turn. He began to strip down, Mikkel busying himself with preparing more soap and a fresh set of towels. First the jacket came off, and then Emil worked up the courage to take off the jumper underneath.

No one said a thing about the scar taking up half his arm.

He wriggled off his boots and socks, stepping onto the wet slush before he shuddered and waited for Mikkel to give him the okay for the bath.

Belatedly, he realised that he could barely feel the cold.

Sure, his wet feet were a bit nippy, but the rest of him felt fine. Almost tropical, whatever that meant. He didn't like that one bit.

Before he could dwell on it too much, Mikkel gave him the okay to get into the tub so he finished stripping down and quickly hopped in.

Cold! It was so cold!

Emil gasped and nearly leaped back out again, only the interest in maintaining his modesty keeping him inside the tub. He loudly swore as his hands gripped the sides of the wooden basin. But he'd just watched Mikkel put more hot water in! This was impossible!!

"Too hot?" Mikkel asked as he massaged shampoo into his hair. Emil shook his head.

"It's freezing, Mikkel."

"I didn't think you were one for comedy, Emil." Mikkel replied with a hint of humour in his voice. He grabbed a scoop of water and poured it over his head to wash out the shampoo.

Emil couldn't bring himself to reply as he bit back the vicious words that threatened to tear free as the icy water ran down his face.

Fuck fuck fuck _fuck FUCK_ -

Mikkel was quickly done, holding up a towel for Emil to wrap himself in before inevitably throwing himself into his bunk and curling up by the furnace, as he usually did.

Only this time Emil seemed onto too glad to be out of the still steaming water, sighing as he wrapped the towel around him. Even Lalli looked at him weirdly as he began to strip off for his bath.

But he froze when he saw Emil's back. He ran forward and ran a few fingers along it, eyes wide and mystified as Emil jerked away in shock. Mikkel still had his back turned.

"Lalli?" He quietly asked.

Lalli just looked at him with the same wide eyes before slowly turning and continuing to prepare for his bath.

Emil left his clothes for Mikkel to deal with, grabbing his spare set and putting them on before setting about drying his hair. He tried to ignore that weird encounter with Lalli. Was there more on his back? Had he missed it because he hadn't thought to turn while looking at himself in the mirror?

With a huff, Emil stormed into the bathroom, startling Reynir as he tried to weave ropes from grasses Emil didn't remember collecting, and took off his jumper.

His back looked fine.

Grumbling to himself, the part of his mind that still insisted magic wasn't real putting it off as Lalli being... Well, Lalli, and deciding that it was best to just ignore it.

When Emil stepped out of the bathroom, running a hand through his hair to try and calm himself, Reynir blocked his path. The red-head looked behind him as though to check no one was looking before he ushered Emil back in. The door was locked behind them and Emil began to feel very, _very_ uncomfortable before Reynir gestured to his sleeves and said something in Icelandic.

When Emil took too long to get the message, Reynir huffed and tugged up the sleeves himself. He pulled a face and frowned at Emil, shaking his head and saying something.

“I don’t speak Icelandic.” Was all Emil could bring himself to say. He took it to mean that Reynir couldn’t see the burns, either.

So it was just himself and Lalli. Mikkel would have _definitely_ said something if he’d seen them during the bath, Tuuri had seen his hands the previous night, and Sigrun would have had a few choice words if she’d seen them earlier while he was pulling his clothes on before they had set out.  
He didn’t understand it. And like many things he didn’t understand, he didn’t like it one little bit.

Reynir left after they’d listened closely to make sure no one was outside to see them leave the bathroom together and returned to making his rope. He could hear Tuuri at the front of the tank with Sigrun, the Norwegian filling her in on what they’d found. He heard glass bottles, and when he poked his head in to investigate he saw that Sigrun had indeed swiped a few from the weird glass-front boxes.

There wasn’t really much else to do, so Emil found a transcript that Tuuri had made of one of the books they’d found, citing it as a fictional story and saying that they were all welcome to read it if they’d wanted to (“It’s not as if we’re going to be learning anything new from it!”) and threw himself down onto his bunk.

The hole in the floor had been somewhat patched over with scavenged wood. Sigrun had wanted to use what remained of the door to the church, but Mikkel had pointed out that it’d had spent the past 90 years in the open. If it wasn’t going to crumble from someone just breathing near it, it’d likely have all manner of parasites and illnesses imbedded in the wood. Instead, it was a series of branches that had been knitted together by Reynir and small lengths of grass rope.

It was pretty crap, but it was easy to remove to continue to work on the bottom. Besides, it wasn’t as if the cold bothered Emil at all. As he made himself comfortable, he realised that the last time he’d felt cold was when he was in the bath. And before that? Well, probably before trolls and ghosts had assaulted them.

The thought made him feel somewhat sick. Just what had happened to him? Was it permanent? Did… whatever that thing was, want something from him?

Before he could go any further down his path of despair, he was distracted by Lalli wriggling onto his lap, his soaked hair smushing into his face as Lalli made himself comfortable.

“Lalli, no!” Emil shouted as he all but flung the transcript across the room, the paper skidding out into the hall and almost out the door into the snow outside. An impressive feat, all things considered. Lalli, however, did not care as he took it as an invite to rub his wet hair even further into Emil’s face.

“Eugh, you’re so _wet_!” Emil complained as he contemplated dumping Lalli onto the floor. On one hand, he wouldn’t be so wet anymore, but on the other hand, the fragile thing he had with Lalli would probably be destroyed and he may end up with another bowl of soup in his face.

He decided that he could deal with it. He grabbed the blanket neatly folded at the end of his bed and threw it over the two of them, silently marvelling at how quickly Lalli’s hair was drying where it was pressed against his cheek. Maybe he served a new purpose; a drier.

“You are very warm.” Lalli mumbled against his neck, a purr-like rumble emanating from his chest.

“I’m glad someone appreciates that.” Emil replied, head leaning back against the wall.

* * *

 

Lalli had made up his mind.

He’d have to talk to the stupid foreigner.

Emil was warm, very warm, and very comfortable, so there was absolutely no shame in falling asleep on him. When he woke in his dream space, he stretched like a cat, yawned loudly, and got to work. He ran to the edge of his dream space and waded out into the water until he reached the very edge. He could see faces staring at him from the depths, so he scooted back a little. He didn’t really fancy being dragged back under again.

Sucking in a deep breath, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled as loud as he could.

“REYNIIR!”

He hated the fact that he knew his name. Stupid Tuuri, insisting he learned the names of others.

There was faint splashing, and a few moments later Reynir appeared in front of him.

“Lúlli?”

Lalli bit back his irritation. Stupid foreigner, not even able to pronounce his name, stupid foreigner who he needed.

“I need to see Onni.”

“You can’t.” Reynir immediately replied, his face hardening slightly like it does when one is trying their best to not cry.

“Why not?”

“He’s not there.”

“Onni is _always_ there.” Lalli argued. His cousin was a good enough mage to be able to maintain his presence in his dreams, regardless as to whether he was awake or not.

“Show me. Take me to him.”

Reynir tried to protest, but Lalli simply took him by the shoulders and began to push him in a random direction. Reynir quickly learned that this was not a fight he could win, so he relented and lead the way.

Maybe then Lalli would understand. Maybe then he’d see that Onni was _not okay_.

Reynir couldn’t bring himself to go back in again, so he simply lead Lalli to, and sat down as close to the edge as he dared. His feet rested atop the water, solid rings dissipating across the surface of the dark ocean that surrounded them.

Lalli silently pressed onwards.

The dreamscape was in tatters, everything burned to a crisp and scorch marks marring the ground.

He didn’t want to find Onni. Not here, not when it looked like this. Part of him imagined that Swedish forests must look like this.

Swallowing the lump in his throat down, he returned to Reynir and gestured for him to take them back.

“Is Emil asleep yet?” Reynir asked. “I usually chat with him now, he’s actually pretty nice once you get to know him even if he is in his own head a bit. Plus his dream space has blankets and pillows and a fireplace so it’s never col- Lalli, you’ll sink if you just stand there!”

Lalli had stopped walking when Reynir had brought Emil up. What?! He had a dream space?! How come he’d never found him? How come he’d never even sensed it?! The Swede didn’t have a scrap of magic in him!

“Emil?” Lalli questioned as he caught up with Reynir’s strides. “He doesn’t have a dream space.”

He had to be lying.

“Oh, he does! I only found it super recently. I haven’t seen his fylgja or anything though, which is kinda weird. Don’t Swedes have one?”

Lalli didn’t know the answer to that, so he stayed silent. Finnish magic was the extent of his knowledge in that department; he had very little reason to even consider sparing Icelandic magic a glance. Only now that _Emil_ of all people was involved, he was starting to regret his decision.

“Can you show me?” Lalli asked.

“Sure! Follow me, it’s this way.”

Reynir lead Lalli to a little red-brick building with small square windows and an ornate door. Reynir pushed the door open and walked in like it was nothing, Lalli hesitantly doing the same.

He didn’t meet any king of barrier. He sure as hell didn’t like that – Emil was so vulnerable like this! He was so open to attack!

It wasn’t fair!

The room they walked into was empty, no sign of Emil anywhere. The fire was roaring away, however, and Reynir beelined over to it and sat cross-legged as he peeled off his gloves and began warming his hands. Lalli explored the room, finding many, many cushions and blankets. The drawers in the table didn’t open.

There was no sign of any fylgja, or luonto.

Lalli sunk down by the fire next to Reynir and copied him. It was very, very warm in there. He found himself staring into the fire, and when he blinked-

A bird made of fire.

He sucked in a deep breath and his body began rapidly fading as he woke up in the waking world.

He knew who had done this to Emil. He knew who to sing to, to beg for them to help them understand why.

Kokko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to Christian schools until I was ~13 and was raised in a Christian household, so there's a bit of info in here! A rood is a kind of screen that blocks the chancel from the rest of the church; it’s got holes in it so you can see through it. Typically they’re made of wood or iron – not all churches have these, though. The church in my village doesn’t. The chancel is the area where the altar is and is the most sacred place in the church. The clergy and the choir will sit in there.  
> Onto the tunnel; in Britain, certain Christian groups were prosecuted. It see-sawed between the protestants and the catholics. Pubs and churches/monasteries were connected (as far as for pubs to be named after saints and such) and so tunnels were constructed so people would be able to worship in safety without facing prosecution for their beliefs. No idea if this happened in Denmark but *shrugs*  
> Funnily enough, I turned out Pagan. Go figure.


	4. The Lesson

Lalli felt horribly like he'd pried where he wasn't welcome.

Emil had been awake while Lalli had walked into his mind, and he couldn't help but feel angry at Reynir for letting himself in when Emil wasn't there. He hadn't been invited in, he hadn't been told he was welcome, and he certainly wasn't told that he could bring Lalli there too!

The room had been incredibly warm and cosy, and so very _Emil_ , but it was also private and intimate; Lalli had not been welcome there.

The stupid, stupid Swede didn't even notice that Lalli had pried, though. When Lalli woke up again he had softly greeted him and was brushing his hair with his fingers, a tired smile on his face. Lalli didn't want him to sleep, not with Reynir still there. He had selfishly directed and encouraged Emil to play with his hair, patting him when he slowed or faltered.

But soon it wasn't enough. Emil slumped backwards with a snore, knocking Lalli out of the daze he'd fallen into. Lalli angrily got up and briefly considered slapping him awake before deciding against it and throwing the blanket over him.

He'd talk to Tuuri about it. Swallowing the jealousy that had no place here, he briskly turned away.

"Something's wrong with Emil." He said as he slipped into the front of the tank, bare feet slapping against the cold metal floor.

"What do you mean? Is he sick? Does he need Mikkel?" She worriedly asked as she put down the book she was reading. Lalli glanced at the cover - it was about mechanics, if the picture was anything to go by.

"Not sick. Just..." Lalli screwed his face up. "Weird."

"Don't be rude." Tuuri admonished, picking her book up again. "If you're just going to be rude, I'll ignore you."

"No! No!" Lalli insisted, hands balling into fists in front of his chest. "He's burned but it didn't hurt him. And he has a weird thing on his back."

"Does Mikkel know about the burns?" Tuuri asked, almost dropping her book in her haste turning to face her cousin.

"He can't see them." Lalli said, eyes flicking to look directly into Tuuris own. "Neither can you. Or Sigrun." He didn't know about Reynir.

"Do you think it's magic?" She quietly asked.

"I think it's Kokko."

Tuuri couldn't stifle her gasp in time. " _Kokko_? What could she possibly want with _Emil_?"

"I don't know, but I need to find out. We have no one to turn to."

"What about Onni? Can't Reynir take you there-?"

"No." Lalli cut in. "His dream space has been... Destroyed."

Tuuri chewed her bottom lip. Had she not thought his condition was that bad? Had she thought it was just magical exhaustion?!

"Reynir told me he'd asked Onni for help. I saw Kokko on that night." Lalli folded his arms over his chest in a mock hug. "He summoned her, and Emil was the one to materialise her."

"So Onni is worse off than we all thought." She frowned. Lalli knew she was trying to find the silver lining. "And Kokko did something to Emil."

Lalli nodded.

"Well, I'm sure it'll be okay!" She clasped her hands together. "She'll lose interest. Emil doesn't believe in magic; he thinks it's nonsense, and he's an atheist. It will work out, don't you worry."

Lalli wasn't entirely convinced but he nodded all the same. He crept back to the bunks, stole Emil's jacket, and returned to the front with Tuuri. She watched as he climbed onto the sofa and curled up under the sturdy jacket.

"You need to tell him, you know." Tuuri said, quiet enough for Lalli to pretend he hadn't heard.

And pretend he did.

* * *

 

"I couldn't see your burns." Reynir apologetically said as Emil woke up in his dream.

"I assumed as much. So it's just Lalli, then." Emil sighed as he slumped back against the sofa. "That's somewhat relieving, actually."

"How come?" Reynir asked in shock. He had been so shocked and distraught when he’d first seen them, how could he possibly be relieved?!

"If no one else can see, then no one else will know. I'll be perfectly fine in their eyes."

"But then you won't be able to show it off!" Reynir sounded immensely surprised. "I know I would."

"I _do_ have an image to upkeep." Emil sniffed, flicking his hair. "A Västerström cannot be marred in any fashion."

Reynir hummed in response, scratching behind the ears of the dog sprawled on his lap. Emil watched it carefully for a few moments.

"What is that?" Emil asked, pointing at the dog.

"It's my fylgja!" Reynir happily chirped in reply. Lalli has a luonto that's this huge Lynx - it makes a lot of sense, actually - that I sometimes see wondering around in his dream space. It looks so cuddly but I wouldn't want to try."

"Do I have one?"

"You should." Reynir frowned. "Onni had told me everyone has one, even people incapable of magic."

"Oh." Emil frowned. "How would I find it?"

Reynir shrugged. "Mine was just there."

Helpful. Emil voiced as such.

"It may turn up soon!" Reynir insisted. "It's not as if you've destroyed it or anything. I hope."

Emil felt a sense of dread at that thought. He vaguely remembered Tuuri, after much prodding, spilling that Lalli had lost his Luonto whenever he fell into his deep sleeps. If a Luonto was the Finnish equivalent of a Fylgja, then surely if he lost his, he'd be in bad shape too?

He hoped that his fylgja, wherever it was, was okay.

Across a small stretch of water, Lalli sat up on his floating platform.

Part of him was desperate to go to Emil, to make sure he was okay, while another part of him shouted at him and slapped him silly. The Swede could hold his own. He was okay. Reynir was the tastier target.

... But this was _Emil_!

His nerves got the better of him. With his Luonto at his heels, Lalli ran in the direction he remembered Emil's dream space being. He could faintly see shimmers of red, floating above the water, but not much else.

_Damn it_.

Cupping his hands to his mouth, he steadied himself for a few moments, braced his feet on slippery rocks, and shouted his name as loud as he dared.

The red shimmered into view, and then-

"Oh, hi Lalli! You're back! I worried when you'd suddenly left."

_Reynir_.

Lalli tried to not let his face scrunch up too much. Reynir was hanging onto the doorframe of Emil’s dream space, his dumb braid swung over his shoulders.

"I need to see Emil." Lalli said, jumping over the gap and grabbing onto the doorframe when his shoe threatened to slip. His Luonto made a disgusted sound before jumping behind him with a loud splash.

"He's on the roof."

"He's _what_?"

Reynir pointed upwards. "On the roof."

Lalli made a grumbling noise before finding the best way to get up. He didn't have the tree-climbing claws that his Luonto did but it certainly didn't stop him from trying. His Lynx got there first, peering over the edge at him and releasing a satisfied purr.

Lalli just grumbled at it in mild annoyance. His Luonto just hadn't been the same since grandmother passed.

After scrabbling for purchase on the window, Lalli managed to climb onto the roof. He peered up to find that yes, Emil was indeed on the roof, Reynir hadn't been pulling his leg, and his Lynx was milking him for attention.

Emil had been scratching it behind its ears, gently stroking it's plush head before he looked up and grinned when he saw Lalli.

"Lalli! I didn't expect you to be here."

"Why are you on the roof?" Lalli demanded, his Lynx wriggling from Emil's grasp and padding back to Lalli's side. It sat next to his partners feet and stared at Emil with its huge eyes.

"I was looking for something." Emil replied. Lalli hated how Emil didn't maintain eye contact with him and turned away to stare out over the vast ocean around them.

"What could you possibly hope to find up here?" Lalli asked.

"My Fylgja." Emil laughed bitterly. "It's stupid, I know."

Lalli stared at the Swede, blonde hair flowing in a weak breeze as they sat with their elbows on their knees, hands crossed in front of them and staring off into the distance.

"It will come in time." Lalli replied. He slowly sat down next to Emil. "What drew you to the roof?"

"It's the only place I hadn't looked."

It was weird, being able to understand him. Instead of the weird and strange Swedish, it was Finnish - a language he could understand - and despite the fact they had no language barrier, despite they could talk about absolutely whatever they wanted at all... Lalli didn't know what to say.

Neither did Emil.

So many words were running rampant in his head, so many questions burned his tongue, but none of them seemed to be right. None of them would suit this moment. He didn't want to ruin it.

Lalli mirrored Emil's position, leaning his cheek on one hand as he glanced at Emil from the corner of his eye.

"I want... To help you."

"Find them?" Emil asked. For a horrid moment Lalli was scared that his intention had been lost in translation before he realised what Emil meant.

"Yes, that. And with this." Lalli gestured to the dream around them. "You're unprotected."

"Can you teach me?"

"Tomorrow. We'll go back to the tunnel." Lalli replied. He wanted somewhere private. No loud and annoying Sigrun, no Tuuri, and most certainly no Reynir. "I'm not sure what I can teach you, but I'll help you protect yourself."

"Thank you." Emil rested his chin on his forearms, Lynx resting their head on his shoulder and nudging him as they purred. Lalli looked away and tried to focus on something else.

Traitorous thing!

They couldn't hear Reynir singing to himself anymore, and Lalli couldn't sense any other presences around them. They must have woken up or realised they weren't wanted and left. _Good_.

A quiet sound came from behind them. Emil froze and slowly turned to look behind them, Lalli already having leapt to his feet with his hands at his dagger.

A wolf sat on the roof behind them, licking their huge paw before dragging it through the fur on their head.

_Emil_. It screamed Emil, down to the blonde colour of its fur and its bright blue eyes.

Emil seemed to have lost his breath, his chest totally still as he stared at it.

The wolf licked at their lips, exposing their sharp sharp teeth, and curiously looked at Emil before turning its attention to Lalli and the knife he gripped in his hand. Slowly, Lalli sheathed it again and called his Lynx back to his side with little more than a pat to his thigh.

Pleased with the turn of the events, the wolf made a sound of delight before bounding over to Emil and rubbing their faces together, their body one big wriggle. The Swede laughed and did all he could to stay balanced and on the roof, the slight slope just enough to slide down should he lose his footing, while giving the animal enough skritches to make his hands go numb. He glanced at Lalli, who was watching them with an oddly blank face.

"Is this my..?" Emil asked, eyes full of wonderment. Lalli swore there was a sparkle in them.

"It is."

* * *

 

That next morning, Lalli dragged Emil out of bed before the sun had properly risen and was pulling him towards the church before Emil was fully awake.

A candle was lit and placed into a makeshift candlestick to light the way through the tunnel. Lalli replenished the runes he had scattered around, narrowing his eyes at everything around him while Emil wrestled the hatch upon blissfully unaware.

"What did you have in mind for today?" Emil asked. He wasn't sure why he expected an answer. Lalli barely spared him a glance as the two went back into the tunnel, just as damp and horrid as before. The pair clambered through the trap door on the other end, hoping to anyone that was listening that they hadn't missed their turning and had discovered a completely new place.

Luckily, they weren’t too awful at navigation (Emil heavily suspected Lalli was the main reason he didn’t get lost, despite on a straight path), and they popped up in the same pub as before. Lalli quickly scouted the area for any threats before he waved Emil forwards. They shifted what remained of the tables and chairs into the corners of the room, Emil noticing with a drop of his gut that the doors had been barricaded by metal barrels and large pieces of wood.

So there were bodies here, somewhere. He didn't really want to find them.

Lalli waved him to sit on the floor with him. Emil took off his gun and flamethrower, double and triple checking that the safety was on both ( _especially_ his flamethrower; he didn't want to test it any time soon, in case he threw more birds out) and placed them on the floor beside him. Lalli had removed his rifle and was silently waiting for Emil to pay attention to him.

"So," Emil said as he got comfortable, "What are we doing?"

Lalli pressed a finger to his lips. _Shh_. "Close your eyes. Listen." He said, leaning forwards to cover Emil's eyes. Slowly, Emil closed them.

Then tried listening.

He couldn't hear much. The sound of their breathing, the thump of his own heart.

But then he began to hear more. A steady drip drip drip coming from somewhere below them, a bird chirping outside, the soft sound of wings-

Wait, a _bird_?

Emil's eyes flew open and he strained to look out the window. Lalli grabbed him by the cheek and forced him to turn back around. "Don't look. Listen."

"But there's a bird-"

" _Listen_."

As Emil hesitantly continued to do as told, Lalli mentally went over his lessons. He was definitely no grandmother. He was definitely no Onni. His training was woefully incomplete, he wasn't even sure if he'd be able to train Emil at all. The clumsy Swede was as disconnected from nature as any other, and the very basics of everything Lalli knew relied on a respect of the forests.

Emil burned his forests.

That was not respect.

He wished he could ask Onni for help. He wished that Onni could do this instead.

He was terrified of messing this up.

While Emil was still listening to everything - or should be, if he hadn't fallen asleep - Lalli took some paper from his jacket and a pen and began scribbling some things out.

The things he didn't manage to say on the rooftop. The things he couldn't say while Emil was delighted with his fylgja, happily stroking them and doting over them. Things he certainly couldn't say when his own Luonto was badgering the Swede for more skritches, please and thank you.

He drew Kokko. He drew her wings, woven from flames, her wise eyes, and her sharp talons. Finally, he scrawled out her name as neatly as he could.

It was rudimentary and crude, but it would have to do. They did not share a language, and Lalli didn’t think Swedish would have the words he needed. They had no concept of a god, nor of any spirits. Emil had to be told by a Finnish mage what a fylgja was, and that was somewhat… depressing. He couldn’t help but wonder just what Kokko wanted from Emil.

He patted Emil's knee to get his attention. His eyes snapped open, quickly focussing on the Finn knelt in front of him. The drawing was pressed into his hands with an insistent look.

Emil quietly took it, the paper rustling in his hands. “Ko-ko?” He asked, his tongue stumbling over the foreign name.

“ _Kokko_.” Lalli corrected. He pointed at Emil’s flamethrower and mimed an explosion with his hands.

“That was… Kokko?”

Lalli nodded. “What did you hear?”

“Something dripping underneath us.” Emil replied. “Birds. And you making this.” Emil gestured to the paper.

“More?”

“Nothing more.”

Lalli tried to not be too disappointed. He faintly remembered Onni telling him as he carved out a bird made of wood, sat so close to the fire that his feet were almost touching the grate, that Finnish mages were connected to their forests. That they could hear its whispers and its screams. He remembered Onni saying that the foreign mages were deaf to the world around them.

The nights when the cleansers burned their forests were always difficult.

He patted his knees and chewed at his tongue. Training Emil as a Finnish mage would be difficult. For one, he was not Finnish, and their gods did not provide for him. If Emil could not listen to the world around him, then he had little hope at being able to cast any runo, and very little hope at materialising his luonto.

Fylgja, Lalli harshly reminded himself. Emil has a _fylgja_.

He breathed in deeply as he hauled himself to his feet and went off in search for a stick. He’d spotted one the day before, the remains of what was most likely a bar stool in pieces on the floor. Grabbing the length of wood, he brought it back to Emil and shoved it into his hands before using his sleeve to pull him towards the bar.

A thick layer of dust had settled on the surface, turning the bar a sickly shade of blue. When Lalli ran a curious finger over it, it cleared a trail so the polished wood underneath shone through.

Perfect for his needs.

He made sure Emil was watching him carefully, and he began to draw. He didn’t know any staves – they were Reynir’s type of magic and he didn’t know how to draw them, or even what to do. It was not what he had been taught; it was not what anyone had anticipated he would have to know.

The intricate patterns he traced with his finger were not magical in them selves, no; they served as offerings to his deities. He could feel their joy thrum through his bones whenever he took the time to sit down with a stick and just draw on the ground, singing their praise if he could bring himself to do it. Sometimes, when he was younger, he would watch Grandmother do it, and now he’d watch Onni do it too.

Now it was his turn to be watched, he supposed.

He kept it simple so Emil could follow. Once he was done, he gestured to the floor and gave Emil a pointed look.

“J-Jag har inte någon bläck.” Emil stammered. Lalli had no idea what he’d just said, so he grabbed his arms and shoved them towards the floor before dragging the stick along the ground in the starting stroke for the drawing.

The bar stool made a horrid noise as it scratched the wood of the floor, making them both wince and Lalli let go of Emil in favour of slamming his hands over his ears.

“Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea,” Emil said with a grimace. He dropped the stick to the floor and smoothed the scratch on the floor over with his foot. It didn’t do much at all.

Emil looked around them. He remembered from his lessons that the old world had ink, and it came in many different vessels, but the problem was _finding_ them. He remembered that they had automated printing presses that everyone was able to have in their own home that weren’t the size of a car, and they could happily carry it in their arms if they so wished.

These printing presses were bound to be full of ink!

“I’ll go look for ink upstairs,” Emil said as he picked up his weapons, “Then I’ll be able to do whatever it is you want me to.”

Lalli looked confused and somewhat offended. He slapped them out of his hands before pointing at the drawing on the bar insistently.

“Ink!” Emil slowly replied, “I need ink!”

Lalli still didn’t appear to understand him, and Emil cursed the Swedish language. Why! Why didn’t he speak a different language! He should have taken Finnish. Another part of his mind quietly reminded him that he wouldn’t have known he’d needed it, but the annoyed part was quick to silence the thought.

Trying his best to not drag a hand down his face, Emil turned back to the bar and stared at the surface of it as he thought hard about what to do. And then, he realised.

Lalli hadn’t done anything special to be able to write on the bar. It was _dust_ , for christ’s sake, even _he_ could draw in it. And with that thought, he began to copy what Lalli had drawn.

Terribly, but at least he was doing it… right?

Lalli made a quiet huffing noise behind him as he watched, and Emil realised with a grimace that he probably had a _lot_ of work to do.

* * *

 

Sigrun was far from pleased when they returned at midday. Even Lalli couldn’t ignore the grumble of his stomach, and so he had reluctantly wiped his dusty hands down on his shirt and accepted that they had to head back.

She skipped scolding Lalli – she knew that it was fruitless, given how he wouldn’t understand a word she said anyway, so she threw it all at Emil instead.

“You didn’t even say anything!” She spat at him, Emil flinching from the spittle that flew at his face. “You just left! No note, no nothing! What if something went wrong?! We’d have no idea where you even were!” Sigrun threw her good arm into the air, her bad one firmly bandaged to her front curtsey of Mikkel. Emil was almost sure he’d seen staples in the fabric. “What if trolls attacked the tank? You’re the only two capable of fighting! I can’t protect all of them by myself!”

Emil could only sullenly look up at her. She was right, it had been pretty stupid of him to leave without saying anything. That being said, he didn’t particularly have much choice in the matter. He tried voicing as such, but the murderous look Sigrun gave him stopped all thoughts of protest in their tracks.

After five more minutes of what Emil had begun to classify as just _noise_ , Sigrun stomped off shouting something about having to update her mutiny list again. Emil was slightly concerned about the fact that she even had one.

“Hún hljómadi mjög reidur.” Reynir murmured, making Emil jump. He hadn’t even noticed the mage leave the tank!

“What?” Emil asked. Reynir just smiled blankly at him before tromping off towards the wooden basin that sat outside and smelled faintly of soap. His arms were filled with dirty clothes.

Lalli patted Emil on the shoulder and handed him a cookie.

“Where’d you get this?” Emil asked even as he bit into it. Lalli pointed at Mikkel, or more specifically, the satchel on his side.

“He carries _cookies_ around with him?!” Emil exclaimed, nearly dropping the one he held. It was… sort of cute, in a weird way? He had mentioned having siblings, maybe it was an old habit? A way to control the younger ones?

He briefly considered mentioning it to his aunt and uncle the next time he was allowed to use the radio. Despite how he loved them, he could agree that they were certainly… _difficult_.

There was a twist in his gut as he thought about his family, and the cookie turned to paste in his mouth. With a grimace, he handed the rest to Lalli.

“I’m full. Thank you, it was delicious.”

Lalli looked somewhat confused as he tried to push it back into Emil’s hands. No, no, it wasn’t for him! It was Emil’s cookie!

Emil simply put a hand in front of his mouth and pushed it back with a shake of his head. Lalli huffed and shoved it into the front of Emil’s jacket before darting away. Emil would most certainly _not_ be handing it back.

Emil cursed as he quickly fished it out. The sensation of crumbs being stuck in your clothes was not a pleasant one, and one that was borderline painful if they began to rub. He quickly stuffed it into his pocket when he saw Mikkel emerging from the tank.

No cookies here, no sire!

After Emil (willingly) and Lalli (not so willingly) were sprayed down, Emil was finally allowed to enter the tank. The first thing he did was find a scrap of fabric and quickly wrap the cookie in it before stashing it underneath his pillow. If Lalli didn’t want the rest then he supposed he’d have to eat it later, when the thought of his family didn’t turn everything into an inedible mess.

He didn’t know why he’d suddenly become concerned about his family in the blink of en eye. Before, he hadn’t really cared that much if he was able to speak on the radio or not. It was only now that he thought about it, pressed against the back of the bunkroom with his feet sticking off the end of his bed that he realised that not even once had he used the radio. Not even once had he been able to speak to his aunt and uncle, to speak to his own family. Not even to his little cousins who didn’t quite understand what had happened to their living room but were more than happy to accept that they had some strange adults living in their home now. Who didn’t understand why Emil couldn’t play with them, who didn’t understand why he wasn’t coming back home soon.

For the first time since he’d stepped onto the Dalahästen, he missed home. He missed the sound of three pairs of feet running around, he missed the sound of his uncles’ laugh, he missed the sound of his aunt flicking through a book. He missed the smell of burning spruce and the crumble of a collapsing building.

Lalli silently crept up onto the bed next to him and stared at his face for a few moments before reaching forwards and brushing his hair back, untangling it with his fingers. He frowned when Emil barely stirred.

He gently patted his cheek. Finally, Emil turned and looked at him. The Swede offered a weak smile and some Swedish gibberish – Lalli didn’t really want to pay much attention to the words right now – and tidied up Lalli’s wild hair.

The decontamination spray always messed it up.

Emil reached under his pillow and pulled out a lump of fabric, unwrapping it to reveal the remains of the cookie. He snapped a bit off and offered it to Lalli as he took his own bite of the remaining chunk. Lalli quickly took the offered piece and popped it into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God bless google translate. If anything’s off, please point me in the right direction!  
> I also have a chapter estimate! For once in my life! I’m looking at about 6~8 chapters in total? I’ve actually done something super rare and plan out what happens in each chapter, which I don’t usually do (I’m more of a ‘let’s just see where this goes’ kinda person which is not particularly good when it comes to forming things that are coherent) . Soo around that mark?


	5. The blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the title warns; there be blood ahead!  
> super quick update before work (I got called in early, blegh) so I'll have to fix any mistakes when I get back! toodles!

Sune had been given a very, very important job indeed.

“Now remember,” his mother had said, “Don’t touch him. Just look, use your eyes.”

And Sune had listened well, very well indeed. Not once had he touched him! His brother and sister weren’t allowed into the guest room where the strange Finnish man was, as mother and father had decided they wouldn’t behave properly and do their job. But Sune could, they had decided, and that made his chest swell with pride.

He couldn’t wait to tell Emil about this!

He’d only adjusted the blankets and had dabbed away the sweat and dirt that formed on the other mans skin with the washcloth his father had given him diligently washing it out and wringing out the excess water every so often. The other strange Finnish lady would come in every so often and speak to the unconscious man in their weird language, and he would listen intently. Such a strange, strange language belonging to strange, strange people.

He remembered Anna had told the Finnish lady that they were strange, and she had promptly been scolded by father. Sune was not keen to be scolded too, not when he’d been given such an important job, so he had kept his mouth shut and treated the subject like one would a troll.

He was oh so very, tired though. The glass of water had long been drunk, the fruit pieces that were bobbing in it devoured by a very hungry mouth. The book he was reading had far too many words – he didn’t know how cousin Emil had done it – and was oh so very boring. It wasn’t fun when Emil wasn’t reading it to him from under a blanket, a torch illuminating the page as he curled up in his lap and listened to the silly voices he did. Father just didn’t read them the same way, and mother refused to do it! And Sune wasn’t about to ask any of the strange adults if they’d read to him; Håkan had teased him terribly when he’d asked a baby sitter to do it, and he was likely to do the same again.

His head rested against the mattress, a hairs breadth away from the strange mans hand, and he stared at his fingers.

They looked gross.

Sune pulled a face. Surely his parents wouldn’t mind if he cleaned up the mans fingers a little? They looked as though they’d never had a manicure in their life, the edges jagged and dirt had collected around the edges, the skin cracked and dried out. His palms didn’t fare much better, calloused as they were. Had he no shame? Did he take no pride in his appearance?

He reached backwards to find the wash cloth, when he saw a finger twitch.

Maybe a trick of the light?

But no – there it was again. The strange mans hand was moving! He was moving! Sune gasped loudly, a hand flying to cover his mouth to stifle any other noises. He was moving! He had to tell mother!

He knocked over his stool in his haste to rush to the door. He threw it open and hung on the frame as he called down loudly.

“MOTHER!”

He heard a yelp and something being dropped downstairs, followed by some rushed Icelandic before his father rushed to the staircase.

“Sune! What’s wrong?”

“The strange man is moving!”

Rapid footsteps followed, along with some shouted Icelandic. Sune ran into the room again, desperately hoping that the man was still moving and that father wouldn’t scold him for telling lies.

Sure enough, the strange man was still moving, his hands trembling and flinching as though trying to curl into fists. His face was scrunched as though he were trying not to cry, and he was tugging in sharp ragged breaths-

“Sune, Sune, out you get. You did very well; go play with your bother and sister for a bit, yes? We got some brand new crayons for you to use.”

“But-“

“Now, now, off you pop. Down you go.” His father ignored him, ushering him out the door as the Finnish lady came in followed closely by the weird old man. Sune pouted, and slunk downstairs. Had he done something wrong?

No sooner than after he had sat down at their kitchen table, a handful of crayons in one hand and a colouring book in the other, the screaming began.

It was muffled at first, enough that he thought that maybe it was Bosse getting into a fight with a cat outside, but when Bosse flopped down onto his feet he realised that it was something else entirely.

When his mothers face went pale and drawn, more so than usual, he realised that something was wrong.

When the screaming got louder, and very obviously from upstairs, he knew that something was very, very wrong.

His grip on the crayons slackened and he dropped them, scattering them all over the table. The man he’d been watching sounded like he was in agony, the anguished screams echoing around in his head and making his stomach turn.

“What did you _do_?!” Anna hissed into his ear.

“I didn’t do anything!” Sune insisted, his voice trembling. He didn’t! He hadn’t done anything!

“You must have done something.” Anna snottily replied. “Or else he wouldn’t be screaming.”

“I swear!”

They heard someone coming down the stairs. Their father skidded into the kitchen and exchanged a quick word with their mother, who almost dropped her newspaper in her haste to put it down and quickly dashed up the stairs.

“So!” He cheerfully said, clapping his hands together. “How about we go to the park for a little bit?”

No one was fooled.

“Why is the boring man screaming?” Håkan asked. “Did Sune do something stupid?”

“I did not!” Sune almost shouted back, slamming his hands on the table. When would they stop that?!

“Uh…” Their father hesitated for a moment before forcing a smile. “His injuries. He was struck by lightening, you know.” He said as though he wasn’t entirely convinced himself. “Come along now, put your shoes on.”

Sune couldn’t help but look upstairs, his gut twisting in guilt. Had he done something wrong?

* * *

 

After Lalli had made sure that he had eaten the entirety of the cookie, he had slipped off into the front of the tank and could be heard talking to his cousin in Finnish. Emil brushed the rest of the crumbs from himself before standing and cracking his knees. Goodness, was that sound even meant to happen?! He set about making his bed again, righting the blankets and tidying it up when his chest suddenly lurched in a hacking cough.

He could taste blood.

As quickly as he dared, he hurried into the bathroom, leaned over the sink, and spat.

Bright red stared back at him.

Emil hastily ran through all the possible reasons in his head. He’d eaten something red? He’d drunk something red? Bitten his tongue? Cookie had dye in it?

None of them checked out. His tongue felt fine, and no matter how far back he thought Emil couldn’t recall consuming anything that could have possibly done this.

“ _Mikkeeeeeeel_!”

At his panicked shout, Mikkel strolled over leisurely and peered into the bathroom. He drawled something in Danish, and all Emil could do was worriedly point in the sink with a terrified expression.

Mikkel peered in, eyes widening slightly at the sight of blood before he promptly schooled his expression and pulled a face as neutral as he could manage.

“Your gums could be bleeding. Are you brushing correctly?”

Emil visibly bristled. “ _Of course I am!_ ” What did the Dane take him for?! Some kind of animal?! “I coughed it up.”

Mikkel disappeared for a moment before returning with the medical kit. He instructed Emil to open wide, using a stick to push his tongue down and a small torch to peer down his throat.

“Everything looks just fine.” Mikkel replied. “Perhaps it was a nosebleed that originated close to the throat.”

Emil rubbed at his neck. “I hope it was.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Mikkel patted his shoulder as he wiped down the tools. “Lunch is ready. If you could find Sigrun, that would be grand.”

“Sigrun wants to kill me right now.” Emil deadpanned.

“I’m sure she does.”

Mikkel stepped back outside before Emil could reply. Huffing, Emil walked into the front of the tank.

Sigrun was sat at the radio, headphones plugged in as she scrawled out notes on a scrap piece of paper. Her handwriting was atrocious – Emil wasn’t entirely sure what she was even writing, and he definitely wasn’t brave enough to attempt getting closer. Instead, he decided that it would be safer to slip whatever slop Mikkel had concocted onto the surface next to her and leave her be.

Emil collected two bowls from Mikkel, handing one to Tuuri with a smile and sliding one towards Sigrun with a fearful look. When he returned to Mikkel to collect two more - one for himself and one for Lalli – he was stopped by Lalli hopping out of the tank and putting one hand up in front of Emil.

 _Wait_.

He gestured to be followed, so Emil did just that. Lalli found them a spot a fair distance from the tank – far enough to not be disturbed, but close enough to still be visible – and sat down on a fallen tree. He held out his hands for his bowl of slop. He cautiously sniffed at it and pulled a face, seeming to be calculating the pros and cons of skipping this particular meal.

When he saw that Emil was simply pinching his nose and getting on with it, he decided that perhaps he should do the same.

Once he heard Emil’s spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl, Lalli set his slop aside and tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

Emil set his bowl down next to Lalli’s and turned to face the taller boy. “What is it?” He asked.

Lalli simply tapped Emil’s hands and then his chest. “Kokko.”

“The bird? Kokko?” Emil replied, mimicking explosions with his hands. Lalli nodded. He then pointed upwards to the sky, glancing up briefly as though to check where something was.

“Päivätär.”

“The sky?” Emil tried. Lalli frowned and shook his head, tugging on the ears of a hood for a terrifying moment before he climbed off the log and began drawing shapes in the dirt with his fingers. Emil peered over his shoulder and watched as he drew a bird, then a circle surrounded by lines, and a crescent moon.

He pointed at the bird and looked expectantly at Emil.

“Kokko.” He quickly replied. That one he was pretty sure he’d remember.

Lalli then pointed at the circle, and gave Emil an expectant look.

Emil shrugged. “The sun?”

“Päivätär.”

It clicked. Päivätär meant a sun deity.

Emil nodded. He didn’t even want to try and pronounce _that_. Lalli, however, was having none of it and continued to stare at him.

“… Pie-vater.”

Lalli scowled at him.

“I’m sorry!” Emil threw his hands up. “I’m shit at Finnish!”

“ _Päi_ -vätär.” Lalli slowly repeated, enunciating the first syllable.

Emil tried again. “Päivätär?”

The corner of Lalli’s lips turned up and he nodded, finally pointing at the crescent moon. “Kuutar.”

Now that Emil was pretty sure he couldn’t mess up. “Kuutar.”

Lalli’s pleased expression proved as much.

After a few minutes of Lalli pointing at the shapes and Emil repeating the three words back at him, Lalli rubbed his hands over the dirt to destroy all evidence of his drawings before snapping a length of bark off the log and handing it to Emil.

“Draw.” He said, pointing at the disturbed dirt.

Emil felt a phantom ache in his hands. He had been drawing until his fingers were raw just a few hours ago! Did he seriously have to continue?!

Lalli’s displeased look said that yes, yes he did. Emil wondered what kind of slave driver had taught Lalli.

* * *

 

They’d drawn until they heard the engine to the cat tank turn over and finally start, followed by an ecstatic cheer from Sigrun and a high-pitched squeal of delight from Tuuri. They’d both looked over and had seen Mikkel waving them over, so Lalli had quickly finished the drawing, had quietly murmured something Emil couldn’t quite hear, and had walked back with their bowls in hand.

Lalli discretely emptied his onto the ground as they walked over when Mikkel wasn’t looking.

Reynir was in the bunkroom, mask on but looking delighted all the same. Sigrun, Tuuri, and Mikkel were all in the front as Emil closed the door behind himself, Lalli having already climbed in and crawled up by the window opposite the radio.

Emil climbed up next to him, the two staring out of the window.

“We only have a few hours left of daylight,” Tuuri said as she gestured to the map in front of her, “but it should be enough to get us closer to the location.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sigrun excitedly said. “Let’s get going!”

They started moving, Mikkel going into the bunkroom to exchange a few words with Reynir before sitting down by the radio and patiently waiting for someone on the other end to pick up. Emil assumed that he was going to inform his family back in Mora that the tank was fixed, and that they were now heading towards the abandoned outpost.

Lalli had slumped back against the wall, much like he had when they were first leaving Sweden for the silent world. Only this time, he hadn’t leaned out of the window and puked all down the side of the tank – a small blessing. Emil offered him an excited grin and his jacket.

The hours flew by, the pair watching the world go by outside the window. Every so often the cat would perch on Emil’s lap, only to change its mind a few moments later and retreat to wherever it had come from, and eventually come back only for the cycle to repeat.

“Scout!” Sigrun suddenly shouted from the front when the sun was almost kissing the horizon, red yet to bloom across the sky. Lalli flinched, turning his face slightly into Emil’s shoulder as he grumbled into the fabric of his shirt before pushing himself up and going over to see what their captain wanted.

“Can you tell him to make sure this area’s safe?” Sigrun asked. Emil noticed the tank slowing to a stop, and his heart leaped in his chest. They were getting closer and closer to home.

Tuuri translated for Lalli, who breezed through moments later and found his uniform, quickly changing and stepping out into the rapidly cooling twilight.

“Emil,” Sigrun barked from behind him, “You go with him.”

“Okay.”

Lalli barely looked up as Emil hopped out the tank after him, gun and flamethrower slung onto his back.

“I’m coming with you.” Emil said, regardless as to whether or not Lalli would understand. Lalli had simply glanced at him before continuing on. Emil followed at a sedate pace, well aware that he’d never be able to keep up.

He coughed into his fist, and his mouth felt wet.

His glove glistened, and when he turned it and allowed whatever had collected to run onto the white, he saw bright red.

He quickly wiped his palm on a tree as he passed it. Nope. No blood here!

Half an hour later, Lalli informed him that there was no danger to be found and the two returned to the tank. Emil relayed it to Sigrun, who happily enlisted Mikkel and Emil in setting up the perimeter and covering the rear of the vehicle with the protective tarp.

Lalli simply watched the pair from the doorway, his eyes staring off into the distance. The sky was soaked a blood red, and although Lalli knew that it was a good thing, he couldn’t help but feel like something bad was going to happen. It ate away at him, worming its way into his mind and shaking his bones.

Emil was the first to return, Mikkel fussing with the cat around the back of the tank.

“You should sleep.” Emil said to him, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s been a long day.”

Lalli nodded and stretched, mewling like a cat before sagging for a moment. When he stood up, Emil was looking at him strangely.

“I didn’t even think you could make that noise.”

Lalli simply shrugged and slunk into the bunkroom, glad that they were finally allowed to sleep in there again. He crawled under Tuuris bunk and watched as Emil took off his shoes and outside clothes before climbing into bed himself.

Reynir joined them next, clearly bored of whatever was happening in the front of the tank, and then Sigrun, and finally Mikkel. The cat was nowhere to be seen, but the quiet tap tap tap outside the bunkroom door told them exactly where it was.

The room filled with the quiet snores of the rest of the team, but Lalli still could not sleep.

It didn’t feel right not having Tuuri near him. He was half of mind to crawl under Emil’s bunk, but he knew it was a fruitless effort as the team had stuffed their equipment down there, as used as they were to Lalli claiming the spot under what had been Tuuri’s bunk.

But then he heard something.

It was simply the hitching of someone’s breath, but it had Lalli holding his own and listening intently. Who was it? Who’s breathing had changed.

And then he heard the sound of a scratchy duvet being disturbed, the sound of feet scraping on a mattress and a distressed whine.

Was it Emil?

Lalli peered out, eyes glowing. The eerie light illuminated the room just enough to let him see, to see the way Emil’s hands clenched and twitched, and his face scrunched up as he kicked his feet.

He was going to wake everyone up at this rate.

He crawled out from under the bunk and crept over to Emil, taking extra care to step on Reynir’s braid as he went, and he climbed up with him.

So hot! Emil was so hot! Lalli almost flinched back off the bunk when he had brushed against him. It was like sitting above the smouldering remains of a fire.

Lalli wriggled in between Emil and the wall, carefully leaning himself up on one arm and placing the other over Emil’s face, much like Emil had done countless times for him.

Emil seemed to settle, his breathing evening out and his skin cooling down somewhat. Emil had always run hot ever since the _incident_ – Lalli had his doubts that he’d ever cool down again.

Seeing that Emil had calmed down and was no longer thrashing in his sleep, Lalli felt safe enough to allow his eyes to close.

* * *

 

Emil had fallen asleep the moment his head had hit the pillow.

He was exhausted! He’d been dragged up at the crack of dawn and had spent the entire day _learning_. It was enough to bring anyone to tears.

He had been expecting to wake up in the same room as always, with the plush pillows and the crackling fire, but this time he woke up somewhere unfamiliar.

And it was hot. Too hot.

It registered slowly. The bright orange light, the smell of smoke, and the blistering heat that threatened to consume him. Emil spun around wildly, finding that he was indeed in his cousin’s living room, but only this time it was on fire.

His wolf was nowhere to be seen. He was alone.

“Lalli?!” He desperately called, hoping to whoever was listening that Lalli would know what to do. “Lalli!!”

No one came.

“Shit! Fuck!” Emil desperately looked for a way out. The window? No, the curtains were on fire and were obscuring his way. He didn’t fancy trying to bat them away while wrestling that window open – it was always stubborn and refused to move, even if you sweet-talked it.

The door? No, no, for some reason the sofa was barricading it, and the sofa itself was an absolute inferno.

There was no way out.

He was trapped.

The flames reached Emil, grabbing onto his leg and oh so very slowly eating their way up, up, and up. Emil smacked at the flame, desperate to put it out, but it only helped spread it. The fire went up and up and up, burning and burning and _burning_ –

It _hurt_.

It hurt worse than anything Emil could ever have imagined. The smoke ate away at his lungs, making every breath an immense effort, and the heat of it seared his throat. Nothing was spared.

He tried to scream his agony, but no sound came out. Just a wet, wet rasp.

He felt himself being tugged down to the ground, his knees giving out from the force, and then-

For a beautiful, peaceful moment,

Everything stopped.

The fire swirled around him and rushed upwards, leaving charred and carbonised remains behind. The wallpaper had peeled off the walls, the sofa left in a mess of ash and charred wood. The floor was scorched and smoking.

The walls began to crumble away, sinking down into the water around him. The rest of the room followed, chunks floating away from Emil and sinking into the inky depths until it was just the floor Emil was touching left. And with a shuddering gasp, Emil was plunged into the icy water below.

* * *

 

Emil woke up with a wet face and a very, very concerned Lalli leaning over him.

His hands shaking slightly, Emil touched his face and looked at his hand. Crimson. He’d coughed up blood again.

No one else was awake yet, so Emil carefully extracted himself from Lalli and padded into the bathroom, diligently washing his face down. He rinsed his mouth again for good measure, and looked up to see Lalli staring at him in the reflection of the mirror. His face was drawn into a worried line, his eyebrows creasing.

“I’m fine,” Emil waved him off, “Just a nosebleed.”

“Not fine.” Lalli quietly replied.

“Sleep,” Emil said as he gently steered Lalli towards the bunks, “Then talk.”

Lalli seemed to understand, but he didn’t crawl under Tuuri’s bunk like Emil had expected. No, he’d climbed right back into _his_ bunk.

“Don’t blame me if you get crushed.” Emil said as he climbed in next to him, pulling the blanket up so it covered Lalli. He briefly fluffed his pillow up before getting comfortable himself and closing his eyes.

If he managed to sleep after a nightmare like that, he’d be very, very surprised.

He closed his eyes, feeling Lalli’s cool hand cover them. The other whispered something in Finnish, and Emil vaguely remembered it meaning ‘sleep well’, or something to the effect of. He felt the cold hand be taken away, and when he opened his eyes to protest and pull it back, he saw that he was curled up on the sofa in his dream space.

Nothing was on fire this time, and his fylgja was sat on the floor staring at him happily, tongue lolling out.

“Hi, there.” Emil greeted it, happily indulging it in skritches and peppering it with quick little kisses. “Aren’t you just adorable?” Emil said, stroking its back and scratching its rear, just above the tail and to the left. His fylgja immediately stretched out, positively preening with the attention being lavished upon it as its hind leg began twitching.

Emil vaguely remembered making dogs do this as a child. Part of him was surprised wolves did it, too.

“-il!”

Emil twitched and looked up at the same time his fylgja’s ears twitched forwards and back straightened. They were silent for a beat and-

“Emil!”

That was Lalli’s voice.

Emil scrambled up and ran to the door, opening it up wide as he stepped out onto the stones outside. Water splashed around his ankles, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. He’d dry off quickly by the fire, and it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t be dry when he woke up.

Lalli stood on the edge of his boundary, hands cupped around his mouth. He was partially obscured by mist, making him difficult to see.

“Lalli?” Emil called out. And then, the mist cleared, revealing Lalli and his luonto.

Lalli seemed to brighten considerably at the sight of Emil, and took a few paces back before sprinting forwards as fast as he could and leaping-

Emil yelped loudly, scrambling forwards to catch him.

The momentum knocked Emil flat onto his ass.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Emil flustered, smoothing out Lalli's hair. Lalli squirmed and brushed his hands away.

"I'm fine. You're not."

"That sounds like a threat." Emil meekly replied. Had he done something wrong?

"It is not. It is a fact."

"How am I not fine?"

"People don't normally cough up blood."

"Mikkel says it's just a nosebleed that's gone backwards."

"You trust his medical judgement?"

"You trusted it enough to call him when the troll breeched the tank!" Emil argued, immediately regretting his words before the expression on Lalli's face even registered. A hand slapped to his mouth as he sucked in a breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't- shit, I didn't mean-"

Lalli was scowling at him. "I trusted him more with her medical care. He has some semblance of knowledge." He snapped as he shrugged off Emil's arms and stood up, stalking in to the room. "We need to talk."

"What about?" Emil nervously asked. Just how many people was he going to piss off today?!

"This." Lalli replied, tapping the burn scars on Emil's arms. "Is... Anything that we did today helping?"

"I'm not sure I understand why we were drawing." Emil admitted. Lalli's face scrunched in embarrassment.

"They're offerings." He replied as he perched on the edge of the sofa, working off his sopping wet boots. His Luonto padded over to the fire and flopped down opposite Emil's fylgja, the two briefly touching noses. Lalli's own twitched.

"Oh, that makes sense I suppose." Emil hummed. "Can you offer anything else?"

"Anything that is your own." Lalli replied as he placed his boots by the fire and began working off his soggy trousers. At Emil's embarrassed squeak, he gave him an exasperated look.

"You've seen me naked a thousand times." He deadpanned.

"I-I suppose, but there's usually mucky water, and this- this is different!"

"They're wet." Lalli indicated his clothes drying by the fire. "And I'd rather be dry."

"I... Okay. I think I got the names of the gods."

"They're all goddesses." Lalli replied. "Name them."

"Will they still work with the whole translation thing?"

Lalli shrugged.

"Uh, Kokko-"

"Who is?"

"The fire bird. The one who I shot from my flamethrower."

"And who else?"

"Kuutar, the moon goddess."

Lalli smiled and nodded.

"And... Ah, damn, Päivätär?"

"Who is?"

"Goddess of the sun?"

"You remembered." Lalli sat down cross-legged next to him. "I don't know what else I can do other than tell you names of deities to call on and how to give them offerings. You're not one of us." Lalli admitted. "You don't seem to belong to the forest."

"What about Reynir?" Emil asked. "Could he teach me anything?"

"He doesn't know anything." Lalli frowned. "Genuinely nothing. He stooped to asking my cousin for help."

"He drew those runes before, the one that exploded in my pocket." Emil argued.

"It didn't serve its purpose at all." Lalli retorted.

"It did help us out though. When we were overrun."

Lalli was quiet for a moment. "I suppose."

"So..." Emil awkwardly groped for a blanket before throwing it over Lalli in an attempt to preserve his dignity. "You belong to the forest."

"I do."

"What does that mean?"

"That I am a Mage, and the forest is where I belong."

That... Really didn't answer anything. Emil decided to drop it - if Lalli was tiptoeing this much, there clearly wasn't a solid answer to it.

“And Reynir?”

“I don’t know.” Lalli looked away.

“Aren’t you both mages?”

“We answer to different gods.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence. Emil sunk down into the plush cushions behind him. “Oh.”

Lalli was glaring at the fire, his eyes distant. Emil gently brushed his hand against his covered knee to get his attention.

“Mmhm?”  
“It’s okay. We can work this out.” Emil offered him a reassuring smile. Somehow, Lalli found himself believing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I 100% do not recommend giving skritches to wolves. Wolf will probably not take too kindly – I mean, have you seen how huge they are?! They’re absolutely massive!! I totally forgot how big they actually were, for some reason I thought they were about Labrador size! So utterly horribly wrong.


	6. The Awakening

The next day saw them to be too busy to think about more lessons.

Mikkel had presented Emil with a bag, and had informed him that Sigrun wanted him to take Lalli and see if they could find anything edible. Preferably nothing poisonous, hence why he was sending Lalli along too.

Emil had begrudgingly accepted that; he honestly did know next to nothing about the natural world.

The pair walked in silence at first, Lalli a little ways ahead as he scouted out the area and made sure nothing would leap out at them. Every so often, he would loop back to Emil with his arms full of various plants and mushrooms before he sprinted off ahead again.

Emil felt a pang of guilt that he couldn't possibly keep up, especially with his heavy equipment. Accidentally setting off his explosives with an enthusiastic movement most certainly didn't bear thinking about, and it would reveal exactly where Lalli was. He'd be having none of _that_ , thank you very much!

Lalli was in the process of looping back to Emil, a dead squirrel and an assortment of fungus in his arms when the scout suddenly stopped and looked to their right, eyes glowing bright. Slowly, he padded towards Emil, depositing his burden into the back while he not once took his eyes away from whatever had snatched his attention.

Lalli placed a finger to his lips as he motioned to Emil to be quiet. The two slowly sunk down to the ground, hoping that the brush and bramble surrounding them would serve as enough cover.

They had their guns on them, as well as their blades and Emil's flame thrower, but the guns would possibly attract more creatures towards them, blades required being close, and the flamethrower was a last resort when they were surrounded by very, very flammable objects.

They weren't ready to burn themselves alive just yet, thank you.

Something came closer and closer, the shade of the trees protecting them from the harsh sunlight. Dry twigs snapped under its feet, branches crackling and snapping as they ruthlessly pushed forwards.

The air was sniffed, long drags being sucked into wheezing sacks that used to be lungs. Emil felt Lalli twitch beside him, hand edging towards his knife. Slowly, he did the same.

The edge of a rotted hand slid into the edge of his vision, seven fingers and two thumbs sliding sickeningly along the ground. If the thorns bothered them, they made no fuss. Lalli tapped on his hand with three fingers.

Then with two.

Emil braced himself.

One finger.

The two jumped up in sync, Lalli already a split second away from pouncing on the beast. The troll, however, did not look at Lalli.

Their hoard of eyes focused on Emil. Emil, who was internally freaking out and wishing he had stayed on the ground. Emil, who's hand shook so violently the light reflected off it almost blinded Lalli.

The troll backed away, shaking their head to and fro as a panicked noise ripped from their throat. They turned around with a terrified squeal and ran deeper into the forest, their many limbs tripping and stumbling on the underbrush.

While Emil was happy to let it go, Lalli held no such sentiment. He was gone in a blink, reappearing perched on the trolls back and viciously driving his knife into the back of its skull.

" _Lalli_!"

Lalli looked innocently back at him.

"Why did you do that? It was leaving!"

Lalli shrugged. "It knew we were here."

Emil tried to argue that it was wasted energy, but he knew it was pointless; Sigrun would have done the same, and one less troll meant one less problem for them to deal with.

They decided it was high time they headed back. The bag was filled with plants Emil didn't know the name of, various mushrooms, and exactly two squirrels. He hoped Sigrun wouldn't make him clean and gut them again - he'd been reduced to a mess when she'd sat him by a deer and presented him with a knife.

He shuddered at the memory. Lalli gave him a weird look, but didn't say anything.

* * *

 

Mikkel had been very pleased at what they'd brought back, and their rations would last a bit longer than anticipated. Mikkel assured them that it was a good thing; they didn't know what the supplies at the outpost would be like and so it was best to try stretch what they had.

That, and they were going to run out of their sources of vitamin C soon. While grains would last a while longer, fresh fruits and vegetables had a tendency to putrefy and Mikkel was anxious to avoid that.

Lalli retreated into the tank after being savaged with cold water and soap, sulkily flopping down next to Tuuri. They had stopped due to engine troubles - the damn thing had combusted again and evidently Tuuri had only just managed to fix the problem. She was sat in the drivers seat, studiously wiping the oil from her hands as she stared through the windshield.

"You were right." Tuuri quietly said to him after a few moments of silence. "We should have gone home."

"It's too late now." Lalli replied, tucking his knees up to his chest.

"You keep saying that," Tuuri dumped the oily cloth on the dashboard, "but nothing's stopping us."

Lalli slowly closed his eyes. Tuuri didn't know. Tuuri didn't need to know. She wouldn't understand.

"...Is there something stopping us?"

"Just a feeling." Lalli lied.

Tuuri seemed to accept this easily enough. She pushed up from the drivers seat, walking over to the radio. While she waited for it to connect, she turned back to Lalli.

"Did you tell Emil?"

From where Tuuri was sat, she didn't see the way Lalli had tensed up.

Five words, he told himself. It was only five words. He could have managed that. Only he didn't, he'd chickened out last minute.

... Tuuri was ambiguous with what she meant. He didn't have to lie about this.

"I did."

"What was his reaction?"

"Shock, mostly."

"And he took it well..?"

"Relatively."

Tuuri frowned at him. "What _did_ you tell him?"

"It was Kokko." Lalli smirked as he heard Tuuri make a sound of frustration.

" _Lalli_ \- oh! Hi, hello!" Tuuri quickly turned back towards the radio, suddenly sunshine and rainbows as she switched to speaking Swedish. "No, no, everything's fine. We've got the engine going again."

Lalli tuned out after that. It was of no importance to him, after all. He stretched out his legs and hunted out Emil's jacket. It made a fine blanket, and he wouldn't mind simply snoozing under it.

Emil himself was outside, swearing aggressively as he wrestled kitty into the washbasin. His jacket was folded up beside him, so Lalli simply crept forwards and stole it. Emil, as usual, didn't notice.

His feet rested on the dashboard as he settled down to sleep, his head resting on the back of the plush chair.

Tuuri's voice raised in what Lalli recognised as panic. He shot up, trying to make heads or tails of the gibberish - she was speaking in _Icelandic_ , damn her! - but desperately failing.

He'd heard Onni's name, though.

"What's wrong with Onni?" Lalli demanded. Tuuri glanced at him, her eyes wide, before they flicked back to the radio. She ignored him in favour of replying to the person at the other end of the radio.

"Tuuri!"

"Lalli, shush!"

"No! Tell me!"

"Go away!"

Lalli growled at her, storming into the bunkroom. Reynir was in there, as usual, his fingers twisting away at a length of cord. He looked up when he saw Lalli come in, polite curiosity on his face that quickly morphed to horror when Lalli reached forwards and shoved his face into the pillow.

"Good night." Lalli snapped as he climbed up into Emil's bunk - Emil wouldn't care, wasn't as if he was using it anyway - and covered himself in the cleansers jacket.

Hopefully the dumb Icelander would understand his intentions.

When he woke up in his dream space, Reynir was standing a good few meters away. Clearly, he had remembered the tree incident. _Good_.

"What was it that you wanted?" Reynir asked.

"I want to see Onni."

"Oh," Reynir twitched, "are you sure that's such a good idea?"

"Somethings wrong and Tuuri isn't telling me what. Take me there."

Reluctantly, Reynir nodded and gestured for Lalli to follow him. "I think he's this way."

They walked in relative silence, Reynir looking for all the world like he wanted to ask questions and prod where he was not welcome. Lalli would not let him.

Reynir passed into Onni's dream space easily, as always. Lalli tried to bite back the pained sound as he too entered with little resistance, the barrier that usually kept him away significantly weakened.

"Thanks. You can wake up now." Lalli said, beginning to walk into his cousins dream space. He ignored how barren the trees were, and how glassy the rocks around him appeared.

Reynir grabbed him by the shoulder.

"No." Reynir began, steeling himself as Lalli whacked his head around and jerked his shoulder away with a sound of indignation. "I want to see him, too."

"Didn't he tell you to not come back?"

"He didn't tell _me_ that."

Lalli felt a pang. No; he'd told _him_ that. Onni was going to be very mad.

It would be worth it, though.

Lalli shrugged and ran on ahead, knowing that although his legs were shorter he was the faster of the pair, his body quite literally built for running. Reynirs was built for herding sheep, not very streamlined at all.

Lalli found Onni first.

He was sat where he usually was, his feet resting on a rock that reared its head out of the water. His arms were folded over his chest, his eyes squeezed shut as his face was drawn in tight. Lalli noticed that his eyes looked red and puffy.

"Onni?"

He suddenly looked up, eyes wide open as he stared.

"I thought I told you not to come here." He snapped.

"You were mentioned on the radio." Lalli replied. "Something's wrong."

"Nothing for you to worry about. I'm sure if it's important Tuuri would tell you."

"She wouldn't."

Onni sighed as Reynir caught up, puffing and panting.

"Oh, oh gods I'm gunna be sick-" he groaned, hands clutching his stomach. "How do you run so fast?!"

"I thought I told you to not come back here, too." Onni frowned at him.

"You didn't specifically say that." Reynir panted.

"Must have just been you then." Onni replied, fixing Lalli with a disappointed look. "How is Tuuri?"

They both blanched.

"Fine." Reynir replied. "Just fine."

"You hesitated." The panic began to rise on his face, swelling in his chest. "What's wrong?!"

"Emil." Lalli quickly jumped in. "Kokko did something to him."

Reynir enthusiastically nodded. "Yeah, he's got these weird burns on his arms, and he's got a dream space now. We can visit him."

"Which one was Emil again?"

"The cleanser. The messy Swede." Lalli replied.

"I thought he was your friend?"

"He is. He's still messy."

"That is..." Onni tapped his chin, "rather odd. Swedes are incapable of producing mages." He tapped the ground either side of him, motioning for the others to sit. They did, Lalli sitting on the farthest side and taking care be be as far away as possible without it being plain awkward.

"Tell me more."

"I can't see the burns while I'm awake," Reynir said, "but Emil and Lalli can."

"He's very warm." Lalli frowned as he considered what had happened with the troll earlier. Was it worth mentioning?

"What else is there?" Onni prodded, not missing the look on Lalli's face. "You're hiding something."

"Trolls appear to be afraid of him." Lalli glared out at the water. He hated not understanding things.

"Any theories?"

He had none, so he shook his head and continued to watch the ripples on the surface of the water.

"Maybe they're just remembering what Emil did with his flamethrower. They don't know that it was you - all they know is that Emil can shoot... Kokko? From it."

"That suggests they are still capable of thought." Onni grunted in reply.

"How are you so sure they're not?" Reynir argued. Both the Finns tensed up, resolutely staring over the water.

"I think it'd be best if you let myself and my cousin speak." He spared Reynir a glance. "Alone."

He took that as his cue to leave.

"Sorry. I'll be heading off then." He stood and patted himself down before purposefully striding away.

When Reynir was out of sight, Onni turned his attention to his cousin.

"Have you been practicing the spells I taught you?"

"I have." Lalli tapped at his knees. "I don't know what to do about Emil."

"Tell me exactly what happened." Onni readjusted his feet on the rock, shifting so the feeling returned to his leg. He absently began rubbing at his knee. When did he get so _old?_

"He was the one who manifested Kokko." Lalli began, fingers plucking at the hem of his shirt. "After, when he was sweeping for any leftover trolls, I discovered his burns and how hot he was. Then we discovered his dream space, and I started teaching him about our deities."

"I will ask them what they know." Onni said, eyes slowly closing. There was a strained hoot, and a raggedy looking eagle owl perched on his lap, briefly preening its feathers before turning to regard Lalli with big, curious eyes.

"What should I do?"

"See what else you can find." Onni smoothed the remaining feathers on his luonto down. "Kokko doesn't do things without a reason."

"Why would trolls be afraid of him?" Lalli was ripping at the stitching on his tunic now, depositing the fibres on his lap.

"Perhaps they can still sense her within him." Onni frowned. "Is Emil showing any other symptoms?"

"He's coughing up blood."

"That doesn't bode well for him. Has it made him a liability?"

"Not yet. We'll reach the outpost soon; it doesn't matter."

"How long has it been." Onni said, although it didn't sound like a question. His eyes fogged over as he looked at the pond in front of them, water lilies blooming on the surface.

"I want to go home."

Onni was silent for a long while.

"You can't." His voice was choked as though he were suppressing tears.

"I know." Lalli allowed his toes to dip into the water, taking a moment to relish in the cool feeling of the water. "We're being stalked."

"I wish I could help." Onni had a hand over his mouth, slightly muffling his words. "I really wish I could."

"What can I do?"

"There is nothing we can do but wait." Onni looked at Lalli as though he'd do anything in the world to be able to gather him up in his arms and wake up with him still there, safe and sound in Mora. For his family to be back in the known world, where trolls were kept at bay and there would be someone to collect their bones and mourn them should the worst happen. Not out in the silent world, where no one would hear their last words, where their dying breath would be lost to the ancient cities.

"I..." Onni began, his voice cracking. He coughed and tried again. "I heard... Something." His brow creased. "I am unsure what it was. It sounded disturbed."

"What did it say?"

"It told me what it had planned for you." Onni couldn't bring himself to look at Lalli and to see what face came with the small gasp his cousin made.

"What did it tell you."

"I can't repeat it." Onni's hands clenched hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. "I can't. It won't let you leave the silent world. Not alive."

"Not even the others?" Lalli quietly asked. The thought of Sigrun and Mikkel being stuck in the silent world because of his mistakes was hard enough, but Emil too? That was... Horrid. It was horrid.

"No one."

Lalli looked upwards and breathed in deeply. "Teach me some spells. Anything to buy us more time."

"You're not strong enough for more than I have already given you."

Lalli scowled. "I don't care. I need to keep them safe."

"It will _kill_ you, and then what use will you be?" Onni snapped. " _No_. Make do with what you have. It will be enough."

"They're not doing anything!"

"You need to practice them." Onni firmly replied.

"I have been."

"Then practice more."

Lalli groaned, dragging his hands down his face. They were going in circles!

"I need to be stronger." Why didn't Onni understand?! Surely he'd know better than anyone!

"You need to stop overextending yourself." Onni replied. "Be calm. It will work out in the end. If something doesn't work, it will only serve to show you what will."

Lalli peered at him from between his fingers. He was right.

"Fine." Lalli ground out. "I'll be back if it doesn't work."

"Don't come back." Onni grunted in reply. "I'm more than happy for you to stay here, but don't do this again. It's too dangerous out there, especially now. I don’t want to have to repeat myself again."

Lalli knew that he was right. "Fine."

* * *

 

Sune peered out of his bedroom door and looked both ways down the hall before he tip-toed out of his room, his duvet and pillow clasped in his hands.

The strange man had stopped screaming an hour after Sune had been unceremoniously kicked out of the room, but the adults hadn't let him back in again.

"It's okay, sweetie!" His mother had said as she smoothed down his hair and adjusted the collar of his shirt, straightening it out and pulling it over the neck of his jumper. "We can handle it now."

He was having none of _that_. Emil would be oh so very disappointed in him if he gave up now!

So here he was, fumbling with the door handle as he snuck in with his bedding, a bottle of water and a tub of animal crackers.

He set his things out and settled down, quietly munching on a cracker as he watched the strange man sleep.

They were breathing slow and evenly, their face the definition of relaxed. Every so often his mouth would twitch and Sune felt his stomach flop as he desperately hoped that he wouldn't start screaming again. He hated the sound it made, his ears still twinging from earlier. Sune absently rubbed at his ears. He'd do very well without that again, thank you very much indeed!

It was odd. Even when he was sick and could barely open his eyes, his parents never let him sleep this long. He didn't even think he could! He would always wake up and be presented with food, his parents coaxing him into taking just a bite, just another, before making him drink something and then letting him go back to bed. When his siblings screamed in their sleep, they woke up seconds later and refused to go back to bed unless they were safely in the arms of their parents.

The strange man still slept, however, despite his screams and despite how his parents weren't there to brush away any fears. Sune nibbled on another cracker.

He hadn't seen the man eat or drink a single thing, either. He carefully crept up, crawling along the mattress and being very very careful to not crush the sleeping man's hands and knees. The little tub rattled as he opened it, and after a few moments of held breath and a pounding heart Sune decided it was safe enough to open it. He took exactly one cracker out, gently placing it on the sleeping mans lips.

"Eat." He whispered, prying their mouth open. "Chew it carefully."

The man did not reply, or make any kind of indication that they had heard. The cracker simply melted against his tongue.

Sune supposed that was as good as he was going to get, so he simply continued to sit next to them on the bed, silently watching him.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he had. The sun had risen, filtering in through the thin curtains, and he was leaning against something very warm, and very plush. Something heavy leaned against him, and an exploratory brush of his fingers revealed that it was an arm.

The strange man was cradling him to his chest, his face still as relaxed as before and his breathing slow and steady.

How strange.

Slowly, he extracted himself from his arms and was in the process of climbing down from the bed when the strange man suddenly gasped, hands twitching and scrabbling where he had been just moments ago.

“Lalli-!”

The strange man shot up straight, breathing heavily and tightly gripping the covers. His eyes fell on Sune’s, the child’s eyes blown wide and mouth agape.

Sune ran.

“He’s awake! He’s awake!” Sune shouted as he ran out the door, running down the hall. He skidded and slipped on the polished wooden floor, slamming into his father’s legs as he ran out to see what the fuss was about.

“Who’s awake?”

“The man!”

Sune was scooped up into his arms as Trobjorn shuffled down the hall, sleep still clinging to him as his slippers flew off. If he noticed the cold floor on his feet, he made no indication.

His father said something in that weird language he spoke to the man with, the man taking a moment to respond.

“Thank you for letting me know.” Trobjorn said, putting Sune down on the floor. “Can you stay with him a little while longer?”

Sune enthusiastically nodded. Yes, yes he could!

Meanwhile, Onni was still looking around the room, trying to work out where he was.

Moments ago he had been in his dream space with Lalli, his cousin being grumpy over Onni not teaching him anything new. He wasn’t understanding why Onni had refused to teach him more. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Lalli capable – he was, but the cost would be too great. Lalli wouldn’t survive it. He had so much left to do, so much more to discover, and he’d be damned if he let Lalli sacrifice himself like that. No. He wouldn’t. He’d rather that if anyone were to die from this, it was him. He’d seen too much, he’d experienced traumas too great. There was not much left for him now than to stare death in the face and demand that they do their worst.

He looked down when he heard a rattling sound, and saw Sune wrestling with a small tub. When he’d finally got it open, he plucked a single animal cracker out before presenting it to Onni.

The child said something in Swedish. Onni didn’t understand, but he could guess the intention. Meekly, he accepted the cracker. He didn’t want it, but he couldn’t reject it after the trouble he’d gone through.

And then he realised something was in his mouth.

It was mushy, and it tasted starchy. He didn’t remember if he’d eaten before he’d burned their living room, was it a remnant?

He swallowed and took an experimental nibble of the cracker.

It was bland, but he supposed it was okay. He had no idea how long he’d been out for – eating something substantial had the chance of making him very sick indeed.

Siv came in as he finished the cracker, Sune brandishing another at him. She shooed him away with soft Swedish, setting the tray she carried down on the bedside table next to Onni before handing him a mug.

“We hope this tea is okay. How are you feeling?” She asked as she slipped into the rickety wooden chair next to the bed.

“This is too much.” Onni said as he looked down at the mug in his hands, the rich brown colour telling a thousand words. They’d given him a new, fresh tea bag. They’d given him milk. They’d probably given him sugar. His eyes prickled, so he busied himself with adjusting his mug so it warmed his lap.

“You saved my nephews life.” Siv quietly said as she tapped her knees, looking off to the side. “I can’t thank you enough for it.”

He hadn’t done it for Emil. He hadn’t done it for the others. He’d done it for his family.

Emil hadn’t been saved at all. He’d been condemned.

He couldn’t tell her that. Not when she’d been so hospitable towards him, when she’d given him tea with fresh milk in the biggest mug they had to offer. So he sipped at the tea, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth.

“How long was I asleep for?” He asked, staring into the tea. He couldn’t look up at her. He couldn’t.

“A few days.” Siv replied. “Do you need anything?”

“I’ll be fine.” Onni replied as he sipped the tea again. It was delicious, and he let her know that.

“We’ve had contact with the crew.” Siv told him as she collected his empty mug and tray. “They’ve found a library, and they’re going to salvage what they can from it today.”

“What about Sigrun?” Onni said, Siv pausing at the door. The tray shook slightly. “She’s injured.”

“She…” Siv steadied her hands. “Will be okay.” She smiled at him. “It’s had time to heal, after all.”

She slipped out the door, Sune following her with his bed clothes in his arms while Onni silently watched.

How long had he really been out for?

* * *

 

**Abprallen finished it, so I can finally show you!**

**Those who are on the forums have probably already seen this; I'm sorry for those who were expecting something more magical! That's coming. Sometime.**


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